Das Geheimnis Der Liebe
by Nils Jansen
Summary: Mulder and Scully investigate an unexplained exsanguination at a factory farm in Ohio. A mysterious contact gives Mulder an opera videorecording, which might aid in finding the culprit. Spoilers from the first two seasons, with special attention to the episode "3."
1. The Taste of Blood

**Fleischer Farms  
Middleton, OH  
June 6, 1995  
12:20 A.M.**

As part of his usual nightly rounds at Fleischer Farms, security guard Jeb Bundy entered a barn containing a sea of live bovine flesh. It was one of several that held hundreds of cows in small pens on the land owned by Fleischer Farms, just a few miles outside of Middleton, Ohio.

Bundy preferred the dark, where he could hide more easily from potential enemies. Much to the consternation of the plant supervisor, Bundy ignored his flashlight and insisted on using night-vision goggles he had purchased a few years before. They served Bundy well in viewing objects obscured by the dark, though he never found anything suspicious in all his time using them.

The guard could hear mooing at the other end of the barn. It sounded more agitated than he had become accustomed to hearing most nights. For Bundy, it offered the perfect opportunity to put his night-vision goggles to good use. Perhaps he could stealthily capture the culprit disturbing the cattle, and maybe justify their use to the same people who had laughed at him.

As he progressed to the other end of the barn, Bundy spotted a pile of clothes. _Mustn't be an animal, then_, Bundy thought, walking towards the pile. He found a black t-shirt, a pair of black Levi's, black bra, and black panties. Turning the backside of the jeans towards him and reading the label, he smiled. _Size 6. Maybe I'll let her off with a "lesson."_ He figured that the culprit might be a young woman, possibly from the University of Dayton or Wright State. _Maybe a sorority girl doing something on a dare, or some radical feminist vegetarian trying to make a statement by locking herself in a pen. _

Moving stealthily onward, he began to hear an even more agitated animal sound amid the distressed mooing. Following the noise, he walked towards a pen near the entrance at the other side of the barn.

Bundy got within 30 feet of the sound. Turning that direction, he observed within the eerie green light of his goggles a _tableau_ that sent a massive shock through his body: a cow crumpled on the ground, its eyes wide open and blood spurting from its neck. Next to it, a naked woman with long black hair lay covered in blood. She turned towards Bundy and glared at him with almost catlike eyes, the pupils seeming to shine white. Her mouth opened wide, the blood of the cow dripping from her teeth.

As Bundy heard the woman hiss, his chest started to thump rapidly. His right foot spun into the ground as he lifted his left leg, beginning a frantic sprint to the other side of the barn. After darting several yards, he heard soft but rapid footfalls behind him. Bundy's adrenaline, lungs, heart, and blood worked together to push him further from danger, but he could not outpace his pursuer, getting closer, closer, closer...

Just as quickly as the footfalls began, they stopped. Bundy stopped and looked around. It seemed as though the woman had disappeared, leaving a terrible stillness over the barn. With no sign of her, Bundy could only see the cows disturbed from their slumber.

They were all looking upward.

As Bundy followed the cows' cue, a heavy object hit his torso and knocked him to the ground. His night goggles flew off, something forcing him on his back and straddling him. He caught a brief glimpse of a woman's naked silhouette, a dark halo of her long dark hair, and the glowing green slits of her eyes.

After the woman pinned Bundy's arms to his side, she lowered herself on him. Dark hair fell over his face, a few strands descending into his throat. Bundy screamed as a piercing sensation spread from his jugular vein to the rest of his body.

Within a few moments, the nature of his screams changed, the initial agony subsiding as waves of the most profound ecstasy began to pulsate through his body. Nothing mattered to Bundy, who began losing consciousness as his blood kept spurting into the woman's mouth.


	2. An Ill Omen

**J. Edgar Hoover Building  
Washington D.C.  
June 7, 9:05 A.M.**

Fox Mulder reclined in his office chair with a copy of _The Search for Missing Time_. The new book was the first popular work by Madeleine Perdue, a professor of psychology at Oxford who developed an interest in the "alien abduction" phenomenon. While a student at Oxford, Mulder did not take any courses taught by Perdue, but he did hear from other students about her disdain for intellectual sloppiness. Upon publication of her book, Perdue became _persona non grata _among her colleagues, who thought that the quality of her own scholarship had started to decline due to her interest in such an unusual topic. Possibly in anticipation of such criticism, she began the book with the old motto of the Royal Society: "On the word of no one."

As Mulder read through an account from Wales, he heard a knock on his door. "Come in."

As Dana Scully walked into the office, Mulder got up to turn on the projector. "So, what are we doing on our summer vacation, Mulder?"

"We're going to look into this." A washed-out photograph of a cow with a bite wound on its neck materialized on Mulder's projector screen. "This cow was found dead at Fleischer's, a factory farm in Middleton, Ohio. It's a small rural community, about a half-hour away from Dayton and Springfield."

"Standard predation behavior, I would guess," Scully commented as she examined the image.

"Predators usually eat what they attack, but bite marks were the only wounds found on this animal."

Scully thought for a moment. "Could this be related to those cases of cattle mutilation you've told me about?"

"Maybe, but without the usual signs, such as removal of body parts."

"So, what do you think it was?"

Mulder clicked to a new slide, which showed the corpse of a man with the same wounds in his neck. "Jeb Bundy was a security guard at Fleischer Farms. A worker there found him dead yesterday morning, with the same wounds found on the cow. What makes this really strange is the fact that blood was found around the cow's body, but hardly a trace was found in or around Bundy."

Scully walked up to the apparition of Bundy, looking at the burgundy holes in the guard's pale neck. "The exsanguination reminds me of the case where we learned about the Litchfield experiments. But the wounds are obviously bite marks."

Mulder started scratching under his chin. "A vampire," he said softly.

Scully turned away from the image of Bundy's body. "Mulder, I never thought I'd say this, but some of the ideas you've had in previous cases almost seem to make more sense. At the very least, I don't doubt a top-secret government conspiracy. How far away is Wright-Patterson from Middleton?"

Looking at the floor, Mulder responded laconically, "About 20, 30 miles."

"It might not point to all the answers. But it might provide a good lead." After a pause, Scully added, "Vampires seem too far-fetched."

"Why's that?"

"We've never investigated anything where _that_ was a possibility."

"Now we might just be. Together." Mulder walked towards the door. "I need to take care of something before we go, though."

Scully looked at Mulder with a quizzical expression. "Okay."

"I'll just be a few minutes," Mulder said, striding through the door and sprinting down the hallway.

"Take the time you need," Scully called out to him as she stood in the doorway. Mulder could get moody, but rarely before they actually started investigating a case. _It's like when something reminds him of Samantha_, Scully thought, puzzled at how the deaths of a cow and a security guard at a factory farm could connect with a personal tragedy.

**Roundhouser's Restaurant  
Middleton, OH  
June 8, 12:13 PM**

As a respite from investigating the incident as Fleischer's, Middleton police chief Clem Krause reclined in a booth at Roundhouser's, a local greasy spoon. Although he had finished his usual lunch, Krause remained at the restaurant to await the arrival of two FBI agents called in to investigate the case. As he zoned in on his second refill of coffee, Krause observed a tall blond man in camouflage enter the restaurant.

_Oh, no_, Krause thought. _Not him._

The man sat at a table next to Krause. "So, Clem," he asked the police chief as he settled in a chair, "you decided to take a break from investigating Jeb Bundy's murder?"

"Afternoon, Carl. I'm actually going to meet with some people who might help us get some answers."

Carl looked at Krause for a few seconds. "You've been holdin' out on us, Clem. I heard from somebody there was mysterious wounds found on Jeb's neck."

"Look, Carl," Krause said, leaning towards the other man. "I know that you want some answers. Hell, I want some answers. Even if I had them, I couldn't share much of anything with anyone."

Carl got up from the table. "I'm sorry, but Jeb was a friend and a patriot, and I think we need to know." After walking a few tables away, he turned around and shouted, "We have a _right_ to know."

Everyone in the restaurant turned in Carl's direction as he sat down. Krause looked out the window and drank his coffee.

A Chevrolet Corsica pulled into Roundhouser's gravel parking lot. A well-dressed man and woman emerged from the car. _Must be them_, Krause thought. _Look too fancy for here_. The pair entered the restaurant, found Krause at his booth, and walked towards the table.

"Chief Krause?" the man asked.

"Boy, you're good," Krause nodded. "Must be my outfit."

"Fox Mulder. This is my partner, Dana Scully."

"I can't tell you how glad I am to see you," Krause said, shaking hands with the two agents. "Too bad it's under these circumstances, though. This is the first time the FBI's had to come here under my watch"

A few tables away, Carl set his menu down and turned towards Krause's booth. He got up from his table.

"You eat yet?" Krause asked.

"We ate at the airport," Scully said. "Thanks."

Carl started walking towards them.

"Well, let's get down to..." Krause noticed Carl. "Leave this alone, Carl."

Mulder and Scully turned towards Carl, standing a few feet away.

"Feds, Clem? They have no business here. Besides, they're not leaving _us_ alone."

"We need their help. They might be able to help us solve Jeb's murder."

"I'll bet they can." Carl looked at Mulder. "And I'll bet you know everything."

"Excuse me?" Scully asked.

"I'm talkin' to your boyfriend here."

"And I'm speaking as a Federal agent."

"Scully..." Mulder started.

"Carl," Krause said firmly. "Just have a seat and order your lunch, or I'll take you in for interfering with the investigation into the death of Jeb Bundy."

Carl's eyes darted between Mulder and Scully. "All right. I'll go and get my lunch, and I'm gonna have some coffee. Lots of it. I'm gonna need to keep my eyes peeled for suspicious activity." Still looking at Krause and the agents as they left the restaurant, he shouted, "_And I know all about Oklahoma City!_"

As they walked out of the restaurant, Krause said, "I must apologize for Carl. He has a serious mistrust of authority, especially the Federal government.

"Who is he?" Mulder asked.

"Carl Bowman. He's a member of Brothers in Liberty, Ohio. They're a militia group that formed in the area a few years ago. He started getting vocal after Bubba, no offense, got elected. But the bombing in Oklahoma City really shook him up. He thinks McVeigh's a scapegoat, too."

Getting into the patrol car, Scully asked sardonically, "So he doesn't have a problem with us?"

"Nothing personal. Just business," Mulder quipped.

Starting the car, Krause commented, "I'm a conservative myself, but Carl and the BLO's just way out there. They believe the stuff you'd expect. World government. Trilateral Commission. World Bank. Black helicopters." He shook his head and gave a quick theatrical laugh. "No surprise, Carl says he's seen them around here."

"Really?" Mulder asked.

"Claims they're from Wright-Pat."

Recalling her casual mentioning of Wright-Patterson the day before, Scully and Mulder looked at each other. "What else does Bowman think he's seen?" Mulder asked, turning back towards Krause.

"Well, that's about it. He also thinks that the government knows about UFO's," Krause chuckled. "He hasn't elaborated, but that's something else he's told me."

"You've spoken with him about this before?" Mulder asked.

"Well, he's spoken to me. I just listen a few minutes before I tell him that I have a case to investigate. Makes me wish I had some of that ESP so I could get the dispatchers to call me on a 'case' every time I see Carl. He's got good intentions, but his ideas can get pretty spooky."

"Did Bowman know Jeb Bundy?"

"Saw them together quite a bit, him and several others. He didn't say much, but he was just as committed as Carl is."

"I'd like to speak with Carl Bowman," Mulder said.

"Well, he's usually at Roundhouser's for lunch and dinner, after the big rushes. I don't think he'll speak with you, though. Besides, I don't think you'd want to get stuck sittin' with him and listenin' to all his crazy ideas."

"You'd be surprised," Scully commented.

**Fleischer Farms  
12:41 P.M.**

When they arrived at Fleischer Farms, Krause parked outside the structure where the incident occurred. Yellow police tape blocked the entrance. "It happened on the other side, but there's no place to park back there," Krause said, lifting up the tape to let Mulder and Scully through and opening the door.

As they progressed to the other side of the barn, Mulder and Scully looked around the building. "I can't believe the size of this place," Scully said.

"About as big as a town block in Middleton, but just one big building," Krause said. "Sadly, the town ain't what it used to be. More established places downtown closing, giving way to empty storefronts or businesses and restaurants that close after about a year, if they're lucky. The only places that have been around since I was a kid include the pharmacy, Nelson's restaurant, maybe a couple of banks. A lot of our manufacturing businesses have closed shop, too. That's why we let Fleischer come to town, to boost the economy, but it breeds problems of its own."

Halfway into the building, Krause stopped at a chalk outline of a body. "I don't think I need to tell you what happened here."

"This is where they found him?" Scully asked.

Pointing in the direction of the empty pen, Krause said, "We're certain he ran from way down there before someone, or something, got him. That's where we found the cow with the same wounds."

"He was pursued," Mulder commented. "Whatever attacked the cow decided to attack him."

"The cow would be an easier target, though," Krause said. "I could see a predator just wanting to fend off a competitor."

"Unless Bundy's attacker thought that it was more important to keep him quiet about what he saw," Mulder observed. "That's why the cow was left to bleed to death."

Krause looked at Mulder skeptically. "But the wounds had to have come from a predator. I don't know of one that would pursue somebody like that, though. They usually just try scaring people off."

"It was a predator, all right. Quite possibly a human, or a humanlike predator."

His arms now akimbo, Krause asked, "What are you suggesting, Agent Mulder? A rabid monkey? The Wolf Man?"

"I wouldn't say that," Mulder replied. "Besides, there wasn't a full moon, and the nature of a werewolf attack resembles that of a standard predator." The agent paused. "Maybe the attacker thought Jeb Bundy had more desirable blood."

Still standing with Scully, Krause looked on incredulously as Mulder walked towards the other end of the barn. "He rules out the Wolf Man in favor of Dracula, and with a straight face?" Turning to Scully, Krause asked, "Does he always come up with theories like this?"

"That's why I accompany him on these cases," Scully asked.

"To reel him in?"

"To determine the validity of his claims."

"And he's still in the FBI?"

Scully watched as Mulder continued to the end of the barn. "Yes. And I'm still his partner." She followed Mulder, with Krause close behind.

When Mulder reached the empty pen, he called out to Krause, "Where's the beef?"

"The cow's remains have been destroyed."

"What?" Mulder asked incredulously.

"The vet, Percy Swann, has samples taken from the wound."

"I'd like to look at those," Scully said. "I could compare them with what I find on Bundy's wounds."

"Do you think that will help us catch the vampire?" Krause asked sardonically

"It will help us catch whatever killed the cow and Mr. Bundy," Scully replied. "Right now, we can't afford to rule out anything plausible."

Mulder peered into the pen. "Aside from the blood, everything here seems pretty neat for having been the scene of an attack."

"We left the pen intact as much as we could," Krause said. "The apparent lack of struggle is odd, considering how predators usually behave."

"Might have been a bat," Scully commented. Turning to Krause, she said, "Could you take me to see Bundy?"

"Of course. What about Mulder?"

"He needs to do what he does, and I need to do what I do."

"Don't worry about what I find," Mulder said to Krause. "I propose, Scully disposes."

**Rounderhouser's Restaurant  
5:07 P.M.**

Carl Bowman sat at his usual table with a Coke. As he waited for his dinner, Bowman lit a cigarette and glanced through the latest bi-weekly bulletin from the Brothers in Liberty national newsletter.

"Interesting reading, Mr. Bowman?" Bowman heard someone ask.

Bowman set down the newsletter to see Mulder standing over his table. "Well, if it isn't the G-Man. Where's your girlfriend, and what the hell do I owe this displeasure to?"

"I want the same thing you want. Answers about who killed Jeb Bundy."

"I don't know anything." Bowman said. "But I think someone else does," he added, lowering his eyebrows at Mulder.

"I want to find out who that someone, or something, is."

"You wanna know what I think? I think it's one of those half-human, half-Reptilian hybrids your people have been working on. I think the government creates them using alien technology in a top-secret bunker under Wright-Patterson, and one of 'em got loose." Bowman took a breath. "What do you think?"

"I think most of that's untrue, and it has nothing to do with the case. I wouldn't be surprised about the alien technology being used for something, though."

"You're just being funny, aren't you?"

"Not exactly. But I am serious about figuring out what's going on around here."

"If you're tryin' to frame me, you can forget it. I'm on to your tactics."

"What, have you been observing my patterns of behavior?"

Bowman picked up the Brothers in Liberty newsletter. "This tells me everything the government doesn't. And I don't like you using that college talk with me, Mr. Mully."

"Mulder." He paused. "Look, I'm sorry we got off to a bad start. May I have a seat, maybe ask you about Jeb Bundy?"

Bowman stared at him a few seconds, then gestured for him to sit.

"Thank you." Mulder pulled out the chair and sat. "Mr. Bowman, did Jeb have any enemies?"

"I don't know. You tell me."

Mulder's eyebrows lowered. "You know, the way you have been evading my questions, I'm beginning to wonder if _you_ might know more about Bundy's death than you claim I do."

Bowman looked directly at Mulder. "What are you implying?"

"The same thing you've been implying about me." Mulder noticed that Bowman's expression had softened slightly. "I assume you don't like people making false assumptions about you. I'm the same way. So, we can play these games, or you can tell me what you know about Jeb Bundy that might help me figure out who, or what, killed him."

"Why do you keep saying 'who, or what'?"

"I have reason to believe that Bundy was killed by a human, or a humanlike creature."

Bowman stared at Mulder. "What do you mean humanlike?"

"You should know, reading that newsletter," Mulder said, pointing at the Brothers in Liberty publication.

"So you're admitting this is all real?"

"No. What they put out is mainly trash." Mulder paused. "Considering what I've encountered, I've wondered if Brothers in Liberty might be providing cover stories that hide the conspiracy of a very real shadow government."

Bowman stared at Mulder for a few seconds. "Wow! If you're tellin' the truth..."

"It is the truth. I've put my life, and Agent Scully's life, in danger for it."

"So, what the hell's goin' on?"

Mulder looked at Bowman a few seconds. "I don't know if I want to say. It's too complicated, I don't know enough, and I'd hate to place your life in danger."

"It'll be in danger, anyway, once they implement their plans."

"The plans you're thinking of might be different from what they might actually execute. All I know is that they're very clever. Hardly anyone knows about them, but they're powerful enough to eat your group for breakfast."

"So why haven't they wiped out Brothers in Liberty, like in some big Ruby Ridge or Waco incident?" Bowman asked.

"As I said before, your group's probably useful to them. They put out crazy stories in these newsletters, and people start to believe them. Meanwhile, the figures behind the real conspiracy can keep working in the shadows."

Bowman looked away from Mulder. "Jeb was a patriot. He wouldn't have liked being used like that." He looked back at Mulder. "Maybe he was on to them. Maybe somebody in BLO knew it."

"Do you know this for sure?"

Bowman looked down at his dinner. "Hell, I don't know. I mean, we had our squabbles, but nothin' major. I think we all just wanted to do what we thought was right for the country. From what you tell me, I'm not so sure we were."

"We all do what we think is right."

"Yeah, but c'mon. We run around in camo playin' freakin' _paintball_ to get ready for the swarm of black helicopters sent by the Trilateral Commission. They'd cream us in a second."

"What I deal with, your people probably couldn't begin to do much of anything."

Bowman looked up. "Not anymore."

"What?"

"They're not 'my people' anymore. As soon as I get home, I'm gonna take off this damn camo get-up and burn it in the trash barrel." He paused. "It's the least I can do to honor Jeb's memory."

**Swann Veterinary Clinic  
7:15 P.M.**

Scully removed the cell phone from her jacket pocket as it began to ring. "Scully."

"I'm back at the hotel. Listen, I had a talk with Bowman..."

"Carl Bowman, of the BLO militia?"

"Not anymore. I was able to gain his trust, and he told me about his relationship with Bundy. I don't think he had any reason to hurt him. Bundy also had no real enemies Bowman knew of, other than the imaginary ones."

"How did you gain his trust?"

"Common interests, though his ideas are more 'out there' than mine."

Scully picked up a vial containing a sample collected from the cow at Fleischer. "Speaking of 'out there,' I found something unusual in all the samples from the bite wounds."

"What's that."

"An enzyme that neither Swann nor I had seen before. I also found it while examining Bundy. We're having the samples sent to a lab for identification."

"How soon before we have results?"

"I'm not sure, but we hope to have it identified soon."

"If it's an unknown enzyme, it probably won't help us catch the culprit. We still need other clues to be able to do that."

"No, the analysis won't likely help with capture, especially if this is some kind of unknown creature. Still, it wouldn't hurt to at least catalog the enzyme, especially if it hasn't been discovered before. Maybe give some veracity to those hunches of yours if we encounter something similar later."

Mulder smiled. "You're right."

"Here's another unusual detail. I also found traces of semen on Bundy's legs. There's a very strong possibility that he ejaculated during the attack, though I'm not sure how with him bleeding from a vital artery." She waited a few seconds for a response from her partner. "Mulder?"

"Sorry. I know some people get such a thrill out of the prospect of their own deaths, or of coming close to death, like in cases of autoerotic asphyxiation. However, in this case, Bundy wasn't alone, and he may not have been a willing victim. At least, not to getting killed."

"So what happened, Mulder?"

"I don't know, but something changed Bundy's mind. Maybe that enzyme you found is the key to figuring it out."

"I'd better re-examine Bundy to see if there are any additional traces in his system." Scully paused. "I'll probably be back late. It depends on what I find."

"I'll leave the light on for you."

After they both hung up, Mulder noticed a small piece of paper in front of the door. After getting up from his chair, Mulder walked closer to the paper, which had no writing; just a blank space with a block for a stamp. _A postcard?_ he thought, bending down to pick it up and turn it over. On the other side, he saw a picture of the railyards that split the northern and southern parts of Middleton.

_What's his interest in all this?_ Mulder wondered, immediately determining who would leave such a calling card.

**Middleton railyards  
8:23 P.M.**

Waiting in the Corsica, Mulder contemplated the 45 minutes that had passed since his arrival at the railyards. He already read a copy of Middleton's weekly newspaper twice, finally setting it aside in favor of a travel guide of Dayton and Springfield he had borrowed from the hotel room. In such a small town, he knew that the usual reports of school board meetings, little league games, and the names of people fined for speeding violations would pale in the shadow of the story of the case he and Scully had begun to investigate.

Mulder's cell phone jarred his _ennui_. "Mulder."

"It's me," he heard Scully say on the other end.

"You sound perturbed. What's wrong?"

"The body's gone."

"What?"

"Someone at the hospital said that a man with a badge came by and asked to take the body for further examination."

Mulder looked out his windshield. "I guess I shouldn't be surprised."

"How are we supposed to continue the investigation, Mulder?"

"I'm off on another lead right now. I hope to be back before sunrise."

"Sunrise? Mulder, what's going on here?"

"I'll tell you when I find out something."


	3. On a Silver Platter

**Middleton Railyards  
10:45 P.M.**

After waiting a few hours at the railyard, Mulder finally heard a car pull up and stop on the other side of the freight building where he was waiting. Within a minute, he saw a familiar figure emerge from around the corner of the building.

"You seem out of your element," Mulder commented to the man, whom he usually contacted by placing masking tape in the shape of an X on the window of his apartment.

"Isolated locations _are_ my element, Mr. Mulder."

"I've just gotten used to seeing you in more 'official' locations."

"What constitutes my environment doesn't matter." The man held out the parcel under his arm to Mulder. "You might find this crucial to the case."

Mulder took the envelope. "I guess your interest rules out vampires after all."

"You shouldn't jump to conclusions so quickly. My knowledge does not exclusively involve top-secret government experiments or extraterrestrials."

"Even if the wounds don't match exactly, the exsanguination seems a little too reminiscent of my discovery of the Litchfield experiments."

"You didn't discover that, Agent Mulder. My predecessor risked his life pointing you towards their existence. Besides, I thought that you would consider other possibilities after your solo investigation in Los Angeles last year." The man paused. "Which, from what I gather, wasn't so solo."

Memories of that case flooded Mulder's head and jabbed his heart. He recalled the beauty of the moon turning a brilliant scarlet hue from the fires around Kristen Kilar's house... the razor cutting under his chin... the drop of his blood that Kristen almost swallowed... the passionate kiss... the much-needed _Liebesnacht_, ending with Kristen's self-immolation to destroy the vampires who came for her.

The absence of Scully through it all.

Mulder glared at his contact. "Do you always have to make me feel like your bitch?"

The man grabbed Mulder's collar and pulled him a few inches from his face. Quietly and tersely, he hissed, "Listen! I didn't come all the way out here just to play mind games! I put my ass in danger anytime I meet with you, even in this piss-ant cracker town!" He pushed Mulder away. "Just remember. If you want to think of yourself as my bitch, I can treat you as such. What you saw in Los Angeles was nothing, compared with what I'm giving you tonight."

"It was something to some people."

"This is bigger, Mister Mulder. Much bigger than you can imagine. What I'm giving you is the key to another world. One that could make your previous work pale in comparison."

"Bigger than a government cover-up of unethical experiments involving alien technology?"

"You really think there's just one big conspiracy out there? The big one you're going to blow wide open?" The man turned and started walking away before stopping a few seconds later. "You can't just play superhero and save the world yourself. You need people you can trust, before it's too late." He kept walking, turning the corner cautiously _en route_ to his car.

Mulder regarded the parcel, like a present that might contain a bomb or a snake. In its belly, Mulder felt the outline of a small book, as well as a clamshell container. The package rattled as he shook it.

The door of a nearby car opened, and the engine started before Mulder's contact drove to parts unknown. _Damn! I forgot to ask what happened to Jeb Bundy's body. _Pondering at how his contact managed to dodge the issue, Mulder wandered to his own rental car. Looking furtively around the silent railyards, he passed the long-empty building that housed a saloon and some bedrooms that gave loud comfort to rail workers and travelers a century earlier.

**Middleton Holiday Inn  
11:21 P.M.**

Mulder walked into the hotel room holding the parcel he received from his contact. He found Scully stretched out on one of the beds with the television on. "Mulder? Is that you?"

"That's me." Regarding the black-and-white film on the television, Mulder witnessed a woman descend a grand staircase with a determined blank stare, surrounded by police officers and men in suits, accompanied by a top-heavy tango and the hard-boiled post-mortem narration of William Holden. Mulder set the parcel on top of the television, turned to Scully, and positioned his hands to mimic a film director framing a shot. "Ready for your close-up, Scully?"

Sitting up in her bed, Scully clicked the remote control and turned off the television. "No. Where were you, anyway?"

"Our 'friend at the FBI' wanted to meet with me tonight." He grabbed the parcel from the top of the television. "And, he gave me this package."

"What's in it?"

Mulder pulled out a small purple book and handed it to Scully. "A diary, which belonged to an Isadora Kecksburg."

As Mulder set the package on the dresser, Scully opened the diary to the first page. Purple cursive scribbling indicated the diary's ownership: _This diary is the property of Isadora Kecksburg!_. "That name sounds familiar." She turned the page and began scanning through the first entry, dated December 9th, 1991, where Isadora Kecksburg wrote about her 16th birthday.

"You might have heard about her in the news a few years ago. She was a teenager in the Dallas area who disappeared mysteriously."

"Sounds like something that would be on the local news there. They probably wouldn't have reported it nationally."

"They did a few weeks later, when there was another twist to the story. Peyton McClary, who attended the same high school as Kecksburg, also vanished. Families of students there expressed concern that someone was starting to systematically abduct those attending school there. However, after McClary's disappearance, no more students went missing. The abduction concerns subsided after a while, especially when a heroin use epidemic started to spread throughout the school. That also made the national news, and stayed there for a longer time."

"Did you find anything connecting Kecksburg and McClary?"

"The media noted not-so-subtly that the two of them dated." Mulder pointed to the diary. "But I'll bet it's all in there. I've only glanced at it enough to learn that she originally came from right here in Middleton."

"They've never been found, right?"

"Not that I know of. But maybe there's some connection with the case we're investigating here."

"It's almost like we're encountering the same things as before, but it's different."

"How so?"

"Like our first case in Washington state, and that case in Wisconsin with the bovine growth hormones. A number of young people being abducted..."

"Yeah," Mulder interrupted, "but this has to do with two kids who went missing over a thousand miles away a couple of years ago. And there isn't a rash of multiple disappearances here in Middleton."

"That's where I was going." Scully paused for a moment. "If this case relates somehow to the things we've found out over the past year, it's like it has mutated into something else."

"Maybe it _is_ something else."

"But it shares too many similarities with what we've already encountered."

"Not if our 'friend at the FBI' is telling the truth."

Scully set down the diary and looked at Mulder. "How do you know he's telling you the truth? You should know better than to trust anyone."

"That's a lesson you may have learned, Scully. But I've learned that I need to trust somebody. And, luckily, I've learned to trust at least one person. Besides, as I've learned, I can't do all this alone."

Scully looked at Mulder for a few seconds before turning to the parcel on the dresser. She noticed something else bulging within. "Did you leave something in that envelope?"

Mulder grabbed the package and reached inside, revealing a black clamshell videocassette case. "A _fin de siècle_ story of obsession, revenge, and unrequited lust."

Scully took the case, which contained a videorecording of Richard Strauss' opera _Salome_. Under the title's red lettering, Salome cradled the severed head of the prophet Jochanaan atop a column of ivory. "What in the world would an opera have to do with what happened here and a missing person case in Texas? I'm not even sure how to connect _those_ two ideas."

"I dunno." Recalling his meeting with his contact earlier in the year outside the Kennedy Center, Mulder mused, "Maybe our friend thinks I need to become more cultured. I actually remember learning about _Salome_ in Dr. Ganz's music appreciation class, though. Based on the play by Oscar Wilde, it was the first important opera of the 20th Century, and it stretched the boundaries of tonality a few years before Schoenberg..."

"Let's hold off on the music lesson. There are the mysterious deaths here, and now we have this diary... Mulder, what if someone... your 'friend,' for instance... was trying to distract us from something else?"

"I guess that's what we're here to find out." Mulder got up, stretched, and picked up the diary. "So, do you want to read the diary or see if the videotape offers any clues?"

"Since they don't have a VCR here, and it probably won't offer anything significant, the tape can wait." Scully took the diary from Mulder. "But, I think I'd be better-qualified to read the diary."

"How so?"

"I was a sixteen year old girl. Once."

**June 9th  
7:00 A.M.**

In his bed and in a chair, Mulder and Scully awoke in their respective locations to the buzzing of Scully's alarm clock. After several seconds, Mulder groaned, "Scully, just shoot that damned alarm clock."

"I'm over here, Mulder," she called back, half-asleep from the chair. When she finally arose to stagger over to the clock, Isadora Kecksburg's diary slid off her lap to the floor. Scully slammed the button and mumbled, "I thought things would be clearer in the morning."

"What'd you find?" Mulder asked, starting to sound as if he could pass for fully awake.

"A crick in my back from sleeping in the chair."

"No, the diary."

Scully found the diary on the floor and picked it up. "Well, Isadora Kecksburg has, or had, pretty bad handwriting."

"Anything else salient?"

Scully contemplated the closed diary a few moments. "She didn't have a lot of friends, but her diary mentions a couple of students from her school quite a bit. Someone named Salvador, and someone named Lucy."

"Anything significant about them?"

"Isadora had a very serious crush on Salvador. He resisted her for a while because he wanted to become a priest."

"A boy in high school wanting to become a priest? He must've been sexually precocious in reverse."

Scully chose to ignore Mulder's comment. "They became friends a few months before Isadora moved. As for Lucy, it sounded like she was Isadora's best friend. Until a fight they had, also just before she moved."

"Was it over this Salvador?"

"No. It was over Isadora."

"What? I've heard of self-love, but..."

"What happened was, Isadora went to say good-bye to Lucy a few days before her family moved to Texas. Sometime during the visit, Lucy told Isadora that she was in love with her. Isadora got angry and slapped Lucy."

Mulder's went quiet before finally saying, "I don't know who's in greater danger. Salvador or Lucy."

"What?" Scully asked, bracing herself for the near-stream-of-consciousness theoretical onslaught she had come to expect when Mulder pieced together seemingly disparate clues.

"Isadora Kecksburg is still alive, Scully, and she's right here in Middleton. She still has an obsession with Salvador, which is why our 'friend at the FBI' included the _Salome _videotape. Woman develops obsession for a man she can never have alive, so she wants him dead. Or maybe she wants to enact some kind of revenge against Lucy. Maybe both."

"But, Mulder, what about the rest of the diary?"

"I don't think we need to read any more. It's crystal clear why she's here."

"What about our investigation?"

"This _is_ our investigation. That's what my contact was trying to tell me in his own inimitable manner."

"We're investigating the mysterious deaths of a cow and a security guard."

"And, if we don't find them in time, two young people. But we have some time." Mulder looked at the alarm clock. "Probably 14 hours."

"What happens then?"

"Sundown."

Scully stared at her partner. "Mulder, are you saying that Isadora Kecksburg has become a vampire?"

"I thought that we might have been dealing with one before we came out here. Maybe the evidence we have is confirmation."

"I'd say more confirmation bias."

"Well, whatever it is, we need to find Salvador and Lucy soon, and protect them from Isadora Kecksburg. Or, whatever she has become."

"A vampire, Mulder? We've never investigated anything where that was a possibility."

"_We_ haven't." Mulder walked to the foot of his bed, sat, and looked at the floor. "I have."

Scully's expression changed to puzzlement. "Was this before I started working with you?"

Mulder looked up at Scully. "It was when you were still..." He looked down again. "Missing." After taking a deep breath, he added, "I went to L.A. to investigate some killings where people had lost a lot of blood and were found with bite marks. Similar deaths had occurred in other parts of the country, and I connected them to a woman who was being followed by some people involved in what seemed to be a vampire cult. Her ex-boyfriend was one if them." Mulder paused for a few seconds. "I thought I could protect her. And I couldn't."

"They got her?"

"She got them. And herself."

Looking at Mulder's posture, Scully believed that he was omitting something important from his account. However, she thought that Mulder might prefer to keep his more personal memories of the L.A. case to himself, whatever they may be. "I'm sorry," she said.

"It's okay."

"I wish I could have been there for... to help you."

Mulder looked at Scully. "I know. But at least you're here now." He stood up from the bed, walked to the window, and looked out into the new dawn. "With your help, maybe we can protect these young people."

_They're not the only ones needing protection_, Scully thought.

**Middleton Public Library  
9:28 A.M.**

A page brought out a copy of the 1992 yearbook for Middleton High School from the library's special collections. Mulder and Scully thanked the page, who returned to glance at the latest issue of Rolling Stone between assisting patrons.

Scully opened the yearbook and found the index. She had hoped for something more detailed, but it only listed each of the town's three schools. Still, it gave her a range of pages to view.

"A lot different from what I'm used to," Scully commented.

"We went to schools with a lot more students. Middleton's so small, they fit everyone K-12 in a single volume."

"And a slim one at that." Scully finally reached the two pages containing sophomores.

"Looks like we might be in luck. Not much to look at."

Scully pointed at one of the photographs. "That must be her. Lucy DiCielo."

After writing Lucy's name on a piece of paper, Mulder pointed at a photo of a young man. "Salvador Diaz." He wrote down that name as well.

"Let's see if there are any others."

After a few minutes of sweeping the freshman, junior, and senior sections, Mulder and Scully found no more Lucys or Salvadors. "I guess that's it," Scully said.

Getting up from the table with Scully, Mulder said, "Now let's see if they have a telephone book here."

**Residence of Mary DiCielo  
10:37 A.M.**

Mulder and Scully stood at the main entrance of Mary DiCielo's apartment, waiting for her or her daughter to answer after the second knocking and third ringing of the doorbell. "Damn! Nobody's home here, either."

"Well, lots of people are at work right now," Scully commented. "It's a small town, maybe Chief Krause knows where they work."

Mulder grabbed his cell phone and dialed. "Maybe they commute to Mount Pilot?" After a few rings, Krause picked up."Chief Krause?"

"This is he."

"Listen, we've been trying to get a hold of Edgar and Connie Diaz, or Mary DiCielo. Do you know where they work, or where they might be?"

"Mister Mulder, I don't stick my nose in people's personal lives."

"I'm sorry, but Scully thought you might know how we could get in contact with them."

"Why do you want to know?"

"We believe their children are in danger."

"Where'd you get that idea?"

"I got a clue from someone, don't ask me how I know him, but I believe someone's trying to get them."

"Someone and someone, _what_?"

"Do you remember Isadora Kecksburg?"

Krause paused a few moments. "Yeah, she was from around here, and her parents moved to Texas. She went missing. It made the national news a few years ago after her boyfriend disappeared, a few weeks later."

"I believe she is responsible for the bites we found on Jeb Bundy and the cow. I also believe that she is trying to find Salvador Diaz and Lucy DiCielo, and possibly harm them as well."

Not hearing Krause, Scully could only imagine the police chief's side of the conversation. She noticed a truck slowing down across the street.

"Slow down there, Mulder. I believe quite a few things myself, such as Jesus Christ is my Lord and savior. But this is a criminal investigation, and believing something based on whatever wild ideas you have isn't going to solve the case."

"We don't have anything else."

"I hope you're not gonna tell me Isadora Kecksburg's a vampire." He paused, awaiting Mulder's response. "I guess I know the answer, then."

"So, aren't you going to help me?" Mulder asked.

"I'll help if you find clues that will help solve the case. But right now, it sounds like you're on a wild goose chase with this mysterious 'clue' you haven't bothered to tell me what it is. Plus, I don't understand how Carl Bowman of all people could influence..."

"Mulder," Scully called.

Mulder turned around, seeing Carl Bowman emerge from his truck.

"Is there a problem?" Krause asked. "I heard Scully."

"No. You wouldn't believe me anyway." Mulder hung up.

"Who you callin'?" Bowman asked, walking up to the agents. Considering their encounter the day before, his less hostile tone was a welcome relief from the paranoia they encountered the day before.

"Chief Krause," Mulder replied.

"Why do you want to know?" Scully asked.

Bowman shook his head. "Did he give you what you wanted?"

"We're just trying to find Mary DiCielo, or Edgar and Connie Diaz," Mulder said, "and none of them were at their homes."

"Don't know the Diazes, but Mary DiCielo I see at Roundhouser's. Works there and someplace else since her daughter started college."

"Where's she go to school?" Mulder asked.

"Ohio State."

"Do you know if she's home for the summer?" Scully asked.

"That I don't know. You'll have to ask her."

"All right," Mulder said. "Thanks for your cooperation."

"Glad to help. At least I know there's some good people workin' for my tax dollars." He turned and started towards his truck. As he opened the door, he turned back to Mulder and Scully as they got into their car. "I'm sorry about what I said yesterday, too." Turning to Scully, he added, "Though I sort of stand by the boyfriend part." Bowman winked, climbed into his vehicle, and shut the door before starting the ignition.

"The _what_ part?" Mulder asked.

"He called you my boyfriend yesterday. Remember?"

"Not really."

Scully started the car's ignition. "Good thing we work on these cases together."

**Roundhouser's Restaurant  
11:00 A.M.**

With breakfast over and the lunch rush a short time away, Roundhouser's only had a few customers when Mulder and Scully arrived. A group of five retired "regulars," a young woman in sunglasses, a man with his daughter, and some teenagers were scattered throughout the restaurant. Mulder and Scully walked to the cash register near the entrance, showing their badges to the cashier. "Federal agents," Mulder said. "Is there a Mary DiCielo working here today?"

Her eyes looking nervously at the thin woman bussing a table, the cashier said, "That's her."

"Thank you," Scully said. The agents walked up to the woman.

"Mary DiCielo?"

"Yes?"

"Fox Mulder, FBI. This is my partner Dana Scully. We would like to ask you a few questions."

"What is this about?" Mary asked.

"Ms DiCielo," Mulder started. "Do you remember Isadora Kecksburg?"

"Yes, I do. She was one of the few friends my daughter Lucy had here, at least until Izzy moved to Texas." Mary paused. "I remember hearing that she disappeared a few years ago. When it made the national news, even though she didn't live here anymore, it was still the big talk of the town since she came from here. One thing I found really strange, though, was that Lucy didn't seem to care, even though they were close."

"How close?" Mulder asked.

"Well, I think Lucy put forth more of the effort. Izzy was always very quiet. Not shy. Just reserved and contemplative. I didn't know much about her, except that she liked classical music. Very unusual for someone her age."

"Do you remember any fights between Lucy and Isadora?" Scully asked.

"Not really, but the last time they saw each other, I heard some yelling before Izzy ran out of here in a hurry. I went in to check on Lucy, ask her what happened, but she just cried and told me nothing. I always wondered what happened there. I just remember her playing some songs by that band, U2, and me telling her to turn it down."

"Is she in town for the summer?" Mulder asked.

"I last saw her at Christmas. She lives just off-campus near Ohio State. She's a junior now, taking summer classes." Mary paused, looking back and forth at the two FBI agents. "I hope she isn't in trouble. I know she's involved in some political..."

Scully started with what passed as reassurance. "Lucy isn't in trouble. Agent Mulder has reason to believe that Isadora Kecksburg might be here to... harm Lucy."

Mary made a fist and placed her knuckles in her mouth. "Oh my God!" After clenching her eyes shut for a few seconds, she put her arm back down, trying to look composed. "But why is the FBI involved in this? And right now with the incident at Flesicher Farms? Is there some kind of connection?"

"It's a convoluted story," Mulder said. "But I would suggest staying with someone for a few days, at least until we can figure out what's happening. Also, if you could give us Lucy's contact information, we can let her know what's happening and send someone to protect her."

"All right," she said, trying to appear calm. "I'll see if I can stay at my boyfriend's."

Mulder nodded, taking out a pen and small notepad. "Just her address and phone number should be enough." As Mulder wrote down the information Mary told him, Scully felt a shiver. The air conditioning window unit at Roundhouser's was going full blast, but it did not feel like the kind of chill brought on by climate control. Scully turned away from Mulder and Mary for several seconds, looking around the restaurant.

"Scully?" Mulder asked, tapping her shoulder. Scully turned around. "Are you all right? I tried getting your attention, but you didn't respond."

"Oh, sorry. My mind was elsewhere. Something distracted me."

Mulder called back to Mary, "Thanks for your help."

As they left Roundhouser's and walked to the car, Mulder said to Scully, "Now that we have Lucy's address, first thing we need to do is contact the police in Columbus and let them know about the situation."

Getting into the passenger seat, Scully said, "Assuming you can convince them that a young woman who disappeared almost three years ago has returned to avenge both spurned and unwanted adolescent love. And that's without mentioning the case here, your idea that vampires are involved, and the fact that it's all a hunch based on something given to you by a man who may not be entirely trustworthy."

As Scully took a deep breath, Mulder started the car. "One vampire. Anyway, Scully, what else do we have?"

"Nothing, at least as far as law enforcement is concerned to make a compelling case." Scully paused. "Okay, suppose Isadora Kecksburg is responsible for the incident at Fleischer Farms... if she wants to seek revenge on Lucy, or Salvador, or both, she'll remain in the area. As far as she knows, they're still in town."

"That's more or less what I said this morning," Mulder commented.

"Even if Chief Krause doesn't believe us, we can protect Salvador ourselves if Isadora really is after him."

"Well, judging from the diary and the implied message of the _Salome_ tape, I suspect that she more likely wants to go after him. She has probably outgrown her anger towards Lucy, anyway. When thinking back to high school, I'm more likely to remember the girls I liked than the kids who pushed me around."

Scully turned to Mulder. "Oh, really? Like who?"

Mulder smiled. "That was long before you knew me, Scully. I'd have to show you my yearbooks to contextualize the _zeitgeist_."

"I know the _zeitgeist_ would have consisted of Farrah Fawcett hair, disco, and platform shoes."

"Those made it easier for the short girls to kiss me."

"Thank God I missed all that, if just barely." Scully looked out the passenger window, placing her right hand against her head. "One thing I've always wondered, Mulder. If we ever caught a creature that was more or less human, how would the justice system deal with it?"

"We already did. Remember Eugene Tooms?"

"I don't think I could ever forget."

"He was placed on trial and locked up in a mental asylum, but Tooms passed himself off very easily as a normal human. Other than the five bottles of chianti and cans of fava beans he kept around his nest."

"So what if we were to capture a vampire?"

"Considering what I know, probably the usual. A stake through the heart, a trip to Cancun."

"Cancun?"

"Sunlight. When I was investigating those murders in L.A. last year, I captured a suspect at a blood bank. You can guess why he was there. Anyway, I had him placed in a holding cell. As sunlight filled up the cell, his skin burned very badly."

"Sounds like he had porphyria."

"This was much worse. His skin sizzled, like it was being cooked by the sun. Only a vampire would have that kind of sensitivity."

"Or someone with a rare, particularly acute form of porphyria."

"And that someone would be a vampire."

Scully rolled her eyes. "I should have known you'd say that."

"Even if you don't believe that I actually dealt with vampires, Scully, it's generally agreed that they try to avoid sunlight. Right now, we at least have that as an advantage."

After the visit from the two FBI agents, Mary DiCielo tried to hide her concerns from the customers at Roundhouser's. Her mood seemed to lift when she approached a table a customer had just left. Under the salt shaker, Mary found a neatly folded pile of $100 bills on the table. Picking it up and counting ten of them, she thought, _One thousand dollars? _Turning towards the cash register, she saw the table's former occupant neatly folding some dollar bills and placing them in her wallet. Before the woman could open the door of the restaurant to leave, Mary walked up to her with a smile. "Excuse me. Ma'am?"

A woman with long dark hair and sunglasses turned around without saying anything.

"I would like to thank you for your generosity," Mary said.

The woman nodded.

Mary got closer. "Are you a movie star?" she whispered. "Just our secret."

"It's the least I could do," the woman replied quietly.

Mary looked at her a few seconds. "Oh, you must have seen me talking with those FBI agents. The money won't alleviate my worries, but all the same, I'd like to tell you again how thankful I am for your thoughtfulness. Reaching out to a total stranger like this."

"We're more connected than you think." The woman turned around and walked out the door.

_Typical New Age_ _talk. She has to be a celebrity_, Mary thought as she watched the dark-haired woman walk to her car.

**Middleton Holiday Inn  
Orient Express Restaurant  
1:14 P.M.**

Wielding a large plate of salad, Mulder settled in his chair at the table he was sharing with Scully. "Say what they will about the real Orient Express, I'll bet it can't beat the soup and salad bar here. They have it on a replica of a luggage wagon and everything."

Working on a bowl of soup, Scully said, "You know, I always imagined myself taking a leisurely train ride, like in the movies. Having a nice meal and engaging in sparkling conversation with someone like Cary Grant."

"Well, you can tell people you ate at the Orient Express with me."

"I think I'll change 'at' to 'on.'"

Mulder's cell phone began to ring. "Might be Krause. Maybe he's turned around." He reached in his coat pocket and answered it. "Mulder."

"Agent Mulder?" he heard an authoritative voice query on the other end.

"Oh, hey Skinner."

Scully looked up from her soup and placed her spoon down.

"Where are you and Agent Scully right now?"

"Having lunch. Hunting suspects with sharp teeth can be hungry work."

"I'm sure it is. I hope you don't get indigestion."

Judging by the sarcastic tone in Skinner's voice, Mulder sensed an impending reprimand that he tried to delay a few more seconds. "What, did you hear something about the Orient Express?"

"The _what_?"

"Finest dining in the Middleton region, conveniently attached to the local Holiday Inn."

"Agent Mulder, the only thing I heard was a call from Chief Krause complaining about you. Let me start by saying that it gave _me_ a case of indigestion."

"Sorry to hear it."

"You've only been in Middleton one day, and your investigation has already descended into what would be a comedy of errors if the situation weren't so serious. He says that yesterday, you proposed some outlandish theory that a vampire was involved in the deaths of the cattle and the security guard at Fleischer Farms. Now this morning, you turn around and claim that a girl who went missing three years ago did it."

"No, I stand by both theories because I think they're one and the same."

"Then you asked him for the contact information of the parents of two kids, claiming their lives were in danger. All this based on some half-baked evidence you found. Or, as Chief Krause so colorfully put it, evidence that was given to you by some 'mysterious source.' He also thinks you're falling under the sway of somebody who's a member of some dangerous right-wing militia group, and who initially greeted you with hostility."

"I think I managed to at least swing him to libertarian."

"And to top it off, the body of the murder victim has disappeared."

"So, what, while Scully and I are out trying to solve this case, we also have to stand guard 24/7 over a corpse? One that someone flashing a badge very similar to ours could steal, anyway?"

Skinner took a breath and exhaled. "Mulder, you and Agent Scully have until noon tomorrow to work on this case."

"What? We just got here."

"And you'll be leaving there tomorrow. I have been asked to send an agent to replace both of you. At noon, you will report to Chief Krause, give the new agent a briefing on what you've found, and fly from Columbus to Washington."

"Who authorized this? We can't solve…"

"One day, Mulder," Skinner said, more firmly than before. "That's what I was able to get Chief Krause to agree to."

"He was that displeased with us, huh?"

Skinner waited several seconds before speaking. "They say patience is a virtue, but it's really something that needs cultivated. Some have had enough experience to do so, while others have not."

"Sir?" Mulder asked.

"I think you know what needs to be done. I don't doubt that you can… take care of this within a day." A few seconds later, Skinner added, "I expect a full report on my desk first thing Monday morning. That will be all."

"Yes, sir," Mulder said, hanging up his phone.

Scully continued to look at Mulder, having taken a few small spoonfuls of soup during the conversation. "So, what'd he say?"

"Apparently, Chief Krause isn't too happy with our work. Or, more accurately, my work. Skinner wants us to report to Krause by noon, then fly home after we give a briefing to the new agent he's sending to investigate this case."

"And all the evidence we had is gone."

"Yes, but we still haven't visited Salvador Diaz's family yet. Perhaps there, we'll have all the evidence we need."

"After sundown, of course," Scully mumbled sardonically, returning to her soup.

"You're catching on."

**Residence of Edgar and Connie Diaz  
6:10 P.M.**

"I'll get it," Mulder and Scully heard a young man say from inside the Diaz house.

"I hope it's him," Scully said.

A man in his late teens appeared at the screen door. "May I help you?"

Mulder and Scully showed their badges and identified themselves. "We would like to speak with Edgar, Connie, or Salvador Diaz."

"I'm Salvador," the young man said, looking puzzled at the two agents.

"Who is it?" a woman's voice asked.

"Two FBI agents. They want to speak with us."

"What?" a man's voice called with agitation. "Sal, you shouldn't be so trusting, even if they are FBI. Maybe especially if they _are_ FBI."

"It's all right, Dad. They seem trustworthy." He turned to the agents. "Is there something we can help with?"

"Yes," Scully said. "We just have a few questions to ask."

The man and woman appeared in the living room. "What do you want?" the man asked, looking with suspicion at Mulder and Scully.

"Mr. Diaz?" Mulder asked. "We're agents Mulder and Scully with the FBI. We just want a few minutes of your time."

Edgar and Connie Diaz walked to the entrance to join their son. "If it's about Jeb Bundy, we don't know anything about it, other than what we hear in the news."

"It's about something else that might be connected," Mulder said. "We have a few questions, mainly for Salvador. He might be able to help us."

"Me?" Salvador asked. "I didn't know anything about Jeb Bundy until I heard about his death."

"Actually, you may have known the potential suspect," Scully said.

"Who is it?" Connie asked.

"We can't say," Scully said. "But we believe that your insights might help us."

Mulder motioned for Scully to go to the other end of the porch. She followed, with Mulder leaning on the porch swing. "I think we should speak with them separately," he suggested. "I'll speak with Salvador, and you can speak with the parents."

"Actually, if we're going to take this approach, I'd like to speak with Salvador," Scully said.

Mulder shrugged. "Okay. Doesn't matter to me." They turned back and walked to the Diazes, Edgar giving them a look more skeptical than the one he had before. "We've decided to speak with each of you separately."

"Salvador didn't do anything," Edgar said, his voice getting edgier.

Salvador turned to his father. "Dad, it's okay. I can stand before the law and God, and they will know the truth."

Edgar looked at Salvador. Connie turned to her husband. "It will be all right, Edgar. You should be proud of Salvador's integrity."

Lowering his head, Edgar stood quietly for a moment, then looked back up at the agents. "My apologies." He motioned to the house, bidding the agents come in. "Please. Which of you is speaking with Salvador?"

"I am," Scully said.

"Do you mind if we sit outside?" Salvador asked.

"Sure. Not at all."

"We'll just be in here," Mulder said, following Edgar and Connie Diaz into the house. Salvador walked to the porch swing and sat in it. Scully sat across from him on the railing.

Looking at Scully's neck, Salvador said, "You have good taste."

Scully raised her eyebrows. "Pardon me?"

Salvador reached up and grabbed the gold cross around his neck. "We're wearing the same piece of jewelry." Taking in Scully's surprised expression, he paused. "Sorry. People don't expect it when I say that, especially since I'm studying to be a priest."

Scully nodded. "What made you decide to study for the priesthood?"

"I don't know. Some of it may have been rebellion. Dad doesn't believe in God, and Mom sort of does."

"So, what can you tell me about Isadora Kecksburg?"

Salvador smiled and looked to the sky. Looking back at Scully, he said, "I suppose she was the one who almost saved me from studying to be a priest. Funny choice of words, I guess."

"How do you mean, saved?"

"I thought I had everything figured out. I wouldn't give in to the same temptations as everyone else my age. Too much pride on my part, which I'm sure He saw through. Which is probably how Isadora came into my life." Salvador paused, his eyes turning away from Scully to three years earlier. "We were both sophomores at Middleton High, took a few classes together. She talked to me a few times before I learned how she felt about me. I got a Christmas card from her. No one else at school did, and I told her how much I appreciated the gesture.

"Then there was the Valentine's Day card I got from her. I appreciated that as well, though the card was a bit... racy for my taste. She also wrote something about wanting to kiss me. When I told her that I couldn't accept her card, she just stared at me and started rambling about me in ways I'd never heard before."

"What kinds of ways?"

Salvador looked at Scully. "Like she wanted more than just friendship, which we hadn't even developed at the time. That's when I told her the truth. That I wanted to become a priest, and that I couldn't be with her. I ran to class right after that, and we tried our best to avoid looking at each other after that. I know she was hurt, and I know that I didn't want to face her."

"Why's that."

Salvador sighed. "I at least felt obliged to apologize to her for brushing her off so abruptly. I just didn't know how to handle it. I wasn't used to such attention."

"When did you apologize to her?"

"Confession... to Mom. Then she told Dad, who immediately came to see me with a smile on his face." Salvador smiled wryly at Scully. "I think he was worried I wasn't 'a man,' if you know what I mean."

Scully nodded.

"So, one day after spring break, I came up to Isadora at her locker and apologized to her. I even offered to walk her home. I thought she would faint or burst into tears, or something, right there. I also told Isadora on the way to her house that I had noticed something... unique about her. She wasn't like the other girls at the school. Or the other boys. Or even the adults, for that matter. I especially noticed it when we were watching _Amadeus_ in history class, how she seemed so moved by Mozart's music. I guess I was as intrigued by her as she was with me." Salvador paused. "She wanted to know my body, and I wanted to know her soul."

So far, Scully seemed satisfied at how Salvador's story matched what she read in Isadora Kecksburg's diary. His perspective deepened her understanding of its contents. "Did you two... get together, as boyfriend and girlfriend?"

"I suppose what would come close to it. We saw each other every weekend, after she was ungrounded by her parents for something she did with some friends."

"What was it?"

"She wouldn't tell me. I guess it wasn't too serious if she was just grounded, though. Anyway, Mom and Dad were thrilled that I found a friend... especially one that was like a girlfriend. They also thought that they could get me to see R-rated movies, like everyone else my age had been doing with their parents, or as an open secret. They would rent some from the video store on Friday, and just let me and Isadora watch them while they went out somewhere."

Scully smiled, remembering the cigarette pilfering she committed at 14. "Forbidden fruit isn't quite the same when your parents give it to you."

"Or when you don't really want it. But, upon watching them with Isadora, I realized I was missing out on some good movies because of my prejudice. We would discuss them afterwards. The good ones, not the trash."

"Like what?"

"Oh, like _Taxi Driver_. You know Martin Scorsese wanted to be a priest, too?"

Scully shook her head.

"_Blade Runner_." He looked away from Scully. "That was the first time Isadora saw me cry." He looked back to Scully, his eyes slightly moist. "Do you remember the first time you saw someone you love, or just care about, cry?"

Not expecting that question, Scully turned from Salvador and looked into the Diazes' front window. "Yes," she replied.

"When we watched that, Isadora saw me cry for the first time." Salvador got up, walked to the end of the porch, and recited Roy Batty's final soliloquy of his imagined memories:

_I've seen things you people wouldn't believe. Attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion. I watched C-beams glitter in the dark near the Tannhauser gate. All those moments will be lost in time, like tears in rain. Time to die._

Salvador sat back on the porch swing, his tears standing in for the rain that dominated the original scene.

Scully got up and touched Salvador's shoulder. "Do you want me to get you something?"

"No," Salvador said, trying to stop his tears. "I'll be fine. I guess it also makes me think of Isadora."

Scully leaned back against the railing. "How so?"

Salvador looked up, taking several seconds to calm down before speaking. "I knew then that she was the best friend I had never had, asking about my thoughts and feelings in a way no one my age ever did. That's when I felt weak, and I allowed... us to kiss each other. I knew how it felt to give myself over to another person, in both body and spirit. It was a bitter sweetness that I never allowed myself to taste again, but it made me appreciate more deeply the commitment made by those who love each other, and who can hold each other in their beds. That's part of the reason why it hurt me when we found out that she had disappeared just a few months after moving to Texas. Isadora was my friend the final few months she was in here. And deep inside, I knew that we could have been more if our paths in life weren't so very different."

"Do you still think of Isadora?"

"I pray for her, every night. I hope that her soul is burning brilliantly in Heaven. I cannot see such a beautiful soul like hers burning in Hell. If it were, I would go there myself and bring her back for all that she gave me."

_If only more men who didn't take vows of celibacy were that committed to love,_ Scully thought. "I know that this is difficult, but I would like to thank you for telling me your story about Isadora."

"Do you know something about her?" Salvador asked, a dim hope appearing in his voice.

"We have reason to believe there's a connection between Isadora's disappearance and what happened here."

A look of shock overtook Salvador's face. "I hope she didn't die horribly, like Jeb Bundy. Or that she at least didn't suffer. Who would do something like that to her?"

"We're investigating 'what' would do something like that," Scully replied. "Whether or not that happened to her, I can't say."

"But why the questions about Isadora?" Salvador asked.

"I can't explain it right now. It's a hunch my partner has based on some evidence we... found. And we're trying to learn what we can."

"I hope she's all right, wherever she is," Salvador said.

"We all do, Salvador. Thanks for your cooperation."

Salvador stood up. "Agent Scully. I should be thanking you. For trying to find out something about Isadora. If you find her, whatever the news, could you please let me know what you learn?" He held out his hand. "I know you understand. I can see it in your eyes."

Scully nodded and shook Salvador's hand. "I will. And I do."

Salvador turned and looked in the living room window. "Why is Dad holding Mom like that? They both look upset."

Scully walked up to the window and peered inside. _Oh, no. He didn't…_ Walking to the front door, she said, "Salvador. Stay here. I need to check on something."

"Okay," Salvador replied, looking puzzled.

When Scully walked into the house, Connie asked with some panic in her voice, "You left him outside alone?"

Scully turned to her partner, trying to keep her eyebrows from knitting. "Mulder? A word? In private? In the kitchen."

"Okay," Mulder replied. He mentally began preparing his defense, mainly because he knew Scully would blow through it like a house of sticks.

They walked through the dining area, with Scully entering the kitchen first. When Mulder entered the kitchen, Scully turned around, folded her arms, and gave Mulder the icy glare she had been saving for the past few moments. In a tense _sotto voce_ that continued throughout the conversation, Scully asked, "What the hell did you tell them in there?"

"The truth. That we have reason to believe Isadora Kecksburg is in the area, and that their son is in danger."

"So, you've convinced them there's a vampire on the loose?"

"I didn't tell them that part."

"Glad to know you're discreet."

"Hey, they need to know why we're here. Did you catch how the father acted when we first got here?"

"Mulder, now we have three parents worried about their children. Perhaps needlessly, based on circumstantial evidence…"

"Yeah, yeah, I know. No proof. You know, Scully, you're starting to sound like a broken record."

"That's because you always lead us on these wild goose chases based on the most bizarre clues."

"And I _always_ seem to be right."

"And I _always_ note it whenever I submit a report on our cases. Especially with all the evidence that ends up disappearing, I can't tell you how often I find myself typing the word 'inconclusive.'"

"You're very kind," Mulder replied sarcastically.

The icy glare on Scully's face gave way to anger, her eyes starting to sting. "Dammit, Mulder! You don't get it, do you? You think I do that for charity? I'm a scientist, and whenever I write a report, I make damned sure I have enough evidence to support my conclusions. It goes the other way, too. If conventional science can't explain what we have encountered, then I'm not going to provide a conventional explanation that's bogus. After three years of us being… working together on these cases, I would think you'd understand that."

Scully pushed through the space between Mulder and the frame of the entryway into the kitchen. He realized that he had gone too far with his comment. "Scully. Wait…"

She turned around. "I'm going back to the hotel, Mulder. I need a few hours to collect my thoughts. Quite frankly, I can't be around you right now. Not if you can't respect me as a colleague. Especially after all we've been through." Scully walked quickly through the dining area into the living room, seeing Salvador and his parents.

"Is everything all right, Agent Scully?" Salvador asked.

"Everything's fine," she replied, slowing down as she reached the front door and turning to the Diazes. "I just need to go to the hotel, gather a few things."

Mulder appeared in the entryway of the living room, leaning to one side. Scully turned to look at him. "I'll be back in a few hours."

"Before sundown?" Mulder asked.

"Yes," Scully replied. "Before sundown." She turned away to open the door, and shutting it as she walked quickly to the car.


	4. Of Doves and Silver Lillies

**The Green Carnation  
Columbus, OH  
7:33 P.M.**

Lucy DiCielo sat alone in a corner of The Green Carnation, a night club on High Street. Although not yet 21, Lucy was able to get into the club with a stamp on her left hand indicating that she could not order alcoholic beverages. Sipping on a glass of mineral water, she watched as various couples and sets of friends finished dancing to some techno music thumping throughout the club.

As Björk's "Big Time Sensuality" emerged from the speakers, Lucy smiled ruefully. She wished that she could be out there with her former partner Chloe. _One stupid thing I said, and one year thrown away. Just like that_, she thought to herself.

If only she could find someone, anyone, who would join her. Lucy was not used to feeling alone like this, and she hoped that someone would come her way.

As Lucy watched the revelers, she observed a woman who had managed to move easily through the dancers. She had long dark hair, a pair of intense brown eyes, and a Classic figure concealed by a scarlet dress on her petite frame. After passing through the dancers, she started walking towards Lucy's table.

_Oh my God!_ Lucy thought, her heart beginning to swell as the woman kept walking to her table.

The woman stopped and stood at the other side of the small table. "May I join you?"

Lucy looked up, her face filling with happy anticipation. "Yes. Yes." She motioned to the woman. "Please. Sit." As the woman sat, Lucy asked, "What brings you here?"

The woman's intense eyes focusing on Lucy, she replied, "You looked lonely. I thought you might need some companionship."

Looking down, Lucy said, "Yes. But how did you know?"

"I notice such things."

Looking back up at the woman, Lucy said, "My partner left me last weekend, after we had spent a year together. We had a big fight. What happened isn't important, but I've just been trying to move on with my life."

The woman nodded, holding out her hand to Lucy. "Sorry I didn't introduce myself sooner. My name is Aimee Archer."

"Lucy DiCielo," Lucy said, shaking hands with Aimee, feeling her firm yet gentle grip.

Aimee let go of Lucy's hand, moving it to touch her hair. "Your hair is such a lovely shade of red. That's what also drew me to you."

"It's dyed."

"It's dyed beautifully." Aimee moved her hand to Lucy's face. "It matches your skin."

Feeling the gentle caress of Aimee's hand against her cheek, Lucy closed her eyes and smiled. _This is weird_, she thought, feeling uneasy at how this woman she had barely known a minute started touching her. _But, she touches me with a sensitivity I've never sensed with anyone. I somehow feel safe, almost like I know her…_

Opening her eyes, Lucy noticed that Aimee had her own eyes closed tightly. "Aimee? Are you okay?"

"Just thinking about how people can hurt each other for no reason. Have you ever had that happen, Lucy?"

Lucy nodded, grasping Aimee's wrist. "There was a friend I had. We grew up in a small rural town about an hour west of here. Middleton. Have you heard of it?"

"I'm… familiar with the name."

"I didn't have very many friends in high school, but I belonged to this small group that hung out together. There was this one girl I was particularly attracted to. She didn't know it, of course. She was quiet for the most part, but I was especially drawn to her intensity. She loved classical music, almost to where she hardly listened to anything else."

"Did she ever find out about your feelings?"

"Her family had to move to Texas. I thought that, last time I saw her, I'd tell her how I felt about her. Maybe she'd let me touch her. Even kiss her. When I finally did tell her my feelings, she slapped me. Right about where you're touching my cheek."

Aimee looked down. "I'm sorry."

"It isn't your fault," Lucy said, trying to sound reassuring. "Thanks for the thought, though." She let go of Aimee's wrist, continuing her story. "After she hit me, she stormed out of my mother's apartment. I started bawling, because I knew we'd never see each other again, and that we had parted on such a bad note. Mom asked what had happened, but I didn't want to tell her. I just shut the door, locked it, put on _Achtung, Baby_ by U2, threw myself on the bed, and sobbed into my pillow. I listened to the sad ones first. 'One.' 'So Cruel.' They seemed appropriate, for different reasons."

Looking back up at Lucy, Aimee said, "I'm guessing you're over her?"

"I realized a little later that I shouldn't care about her, especially after what she did to me. Even when I heard later that year that she had disappeared, my first thought was that she deserved whatever they did to her."

"Disappeared?"

"Her name was Isadora Kecksburg. She was the one whose disappearance made the national news a few years ago. Well, when her boyfriend went missing a few weeks later. I guess he was good-looking enough, and his parents were rich enough." Lucy sighed. "But I realized that Isadora didn't deserve whatever her abductors did to her, even after what she did to me."

"You think she was abducted?"

"I can't think what else it might have been. It's hard to believe otherwise. But, as they say, life moves on."

As "Big Time Sensuality" wound down, Madonna's "Like a Prayer" began playing.

_Life is a mystery,  
Everyone must stand alone._

Aimee stood up from her chair, holding out her hand and looking down at Lucy. "Wanna dance?" she asked, smiling.

_I hear you call my name,  
And it feels like  
Home._

Lucy looked at Aimee's extended hand, her fingers curling in anticipation. Looking into Aimee's eyes, she nodded. Standing up, Lucy pushed back her chair, took Aimee's hand, and walked to the dance floor.

_When you call my name,  
It's like a little prayer.  
I'm down on my knees,  
I wanna take you there.  
In the midnight hour,  
I can feel your power.  
Just like a prayer,  
you know I'll take you there..._

**Middleton Holiday Inn  
7:45 P.M.**

As she lay on her bed, Scully turned her bloodshot eyes to the alarm clock. Exhaustion had overtaken her as she thought about the fight she had with Mulder at the Diazes. Grabbing crumpled facial tissues from her nightstand, Scully got up from the bed and deposited them in the wastebasket next to the dresser.

In front of the bathroom mirror, Scully studied herself as she splashed cold water into her eyes._ I've got to look normal for them_. Whether or not Mulder's ideas would prove true, she knew that she needed to be back at the Diazes to make sure they were all safe.

She began to reflect on the visit to Mary DiCielo earlier in the day. Scully could not figure out why she felt that deep chill go through her body when Mulder got Lucy's address from Mary. Unless…

"Coincidence, Scully," she told herself.

_What else do we have to go on?_

Scully quickly reached for the faucet, turned off the water, and ran into the main room of the hotel suite. She grabbed her cell phone, dialing the pound sign, a "1," and the "Talk" button. After one ring, she heard a familiar voice laconically say, "Mulder."

"Mulder, I don't think Salvador's in danger."

"Why's that?"

"It's Lucy. She's the one in danger." Stepping into her shoes, Scully continued, "I don't know why, but it's a feeling I have. Call me crazy…"

"All right. You're crazy. But I'm only saying that because I owe you."

"It's probably 'inconclusive,' too. Listen, you stay with the Diazes, just in case. I'll go to Lucy's apartment myself."

"But, Scully, what if you're right?"

"That's the risk you take in this job."

Mulder waited a moment before saying, "We only tell ourselves that to pretend we don't care what happens, just so we can do our jobs."

"I suppose you're right, Mulder."

"You know… Dana. On a professional and personal level, I'm really sorry for what I said earlier."

"I know. But I can't waste time on apologies right now. I have a young woman to protect."

"Just be careful. You may not believe me, but I know what these creatures like. I'm sure you can handle it, though. I have complete faith and trust in you."

Scully began fingering the small gold cross hanging from her necklace. "Thanks for believing in me. I just wish we could do this together."

**Apartment 149  
Hallward Terrace  
Columbus, OH  
9:05 P.M.**

Opening the door to her small efficiency apartment, Lucy DiCielo turned on the light switch for what passed as the entryway. "Well, this is it. All 400 square feet."

Following Lucy, Aimee Archer started examining the apartment. "You've done a lot with this place."

Lucy closed the door, turning the deadbolt to lock it. "That's why I rented a small place myself. Better than paying less for a larger apartment that isn't entirely yours."

"How's that?"

"Sharing it. I don't know how people do it."

"You didn't share this with Chloe?"

"She'd come here to stay on weekends. She lived in a house off campus with about eight other students."

Aimee's attention focused on the long and slim framed posters hanging over Lucy's futon. "You like Klimt?"

"Yes," Lucy said, turning to the posters as well. "He did more than just _The Kiss_, you know. So many other people have a poster of that up in their dorms and apartments that I call it _The Kitsch_."

"Which means you had it up in your dorm room your freshman year," Aimee observed.

Lucy smiled wryly at Aimee's comment.

Moving closer to the paintings, Aimee said, "Let's see. You have _Water Serpents I_, and the two _Judith_ paintings."

Lucy nodded. "I'm glad someone knows that Klimt is more than just _The Kitsch_."

"Sometimes, the best things aren't as well-known."

"You don't think they objectify women, do you?"

Aimee put her hand under her chin. "Well, seeing as how you're a woman who likes women, probably not. If you were a man, though…"

"You're being sarcastic?"

"What is 'objectification,' anyway?" Aimee asked

"I don't know. I've come to believe that Klimt actually put himself in those paintings. Like in _Water Serpents_. The woman turning towards us, with her eyes shut tight, her mouth parted slightly? What if that's Klimt painting a feminine manifestation of himself?

"That's a different way of putting it. Maybe you just find the beauty of the world in how another person looks, but that doesn't mean you can't think about them at a deeper level. Consider all their complexities, their innermost thoughts. Like you. I was drawn to your red hair, and I sensed your loneliness. We started talking…"

"And here we are. Alone. Together."

They gazed into each other's eyes.

"You find me beautiful, Aimee?" Lucy asked.

Aimee clasped Lucy's hands in hers. "More than I could have ever imagined when I first met you."

"I feel like we're moving pretty fast, but it's like we've known each other forever. Like love at first sight."

"I wouldn't say that exactly," Aimee said, wrapping her arms around Lucy's waist.

Placing her head on Aimee's shoulder and clasping her back with both arms, Lucy said, "Please hold me."

Aimee nodded. As the warmth between their bodies converged, she guided Lucy's head gently in front of her face. After they looked at each other for a few moments, Lucy closed her eyes, allowing Aimee to kiss her forehead, cheeks, and mouth. The last kiss lasted several seconds.

After Aimee and Lucy savored each other's lips, Aimee said, "I have a song for you. I just came up with it."

They started swaying together. "What is it?"

Aimee moved her right arm up Lucy's back, grabbed her left hand, and gently extended both their arms outward. Lucy knew to let Aimee lead.

_There is nothing in the world as white as your flesh  
There is nothing in the world as red as your hair  
And in the entire world, there is nothing as red as your red, red mouth_

Lucy placed her head back on Aimee's shoulder. "Sounds kind of like 'Pictures of You,' by The Cure."

"Not quite the melody I had in mind, but I suppose that works."

She lifted her head from Aimee's shoulder. "But it's like you were waltzing with me, too." She moved her arms away from Aimee, stepping back. "And that song also sounded like a waltz of some sort." She placed her hand over her mouth, letting out a quick gasp as her eyes opened wide.

"Lucy? What is it?" Aimee asked.

Lucy stepped back to the night stand, grabbing a pair of reading glasses. Extending them to Aimee, she demanded, "Put these on!"

"Why would I want to wear your glasses?" Aimee asked, trying to sound confused.

"_Put these on!_" Lucy repeated, this time more adamantly.

Aimee complied, taking the eyewear from Lucy's hand and putting them on.

"They're not that ridiculous pair you used to wear, and the hair's longer, but I know who you are now… _Isadora_."

Taking off the glasses, the woman held them out to Lucy. "How did you know?"

"Set them down," Lucy shouted, her voice filling with anger. "Why the hell did you do this?"

"I wanted to apologize for what I did to you three years ago," Isadora replied, hanging her head. "It was painful for me to hear the story again, but I needed to. I had to feel it, and to let you to know how sorry I am."

"What the hell kind of apology do you call this? Stalking me, pretending to be a lesbian, and coming back with me to my apartment under false pretenses."

"I couldn't tell you who I really was in at the club. There were too many people around."

"And when were you planning on telling me?"

"I don't know."

"And why should it matter that people are around? What, you didn't want me making a scene?" Lucy caught her breath. "Where have you been the past three years?"

"I can't tell you details. All I can tell you is that I've changed…"

"Oh, you sure have. It probably started when you decided to slap me in my face for telling you that I was in love with you."

"Don't be so self-centered, all right?" Isadora demanded. "I really have changed."

"Yeah. Longer, darker hair. No clunky glasses. What'd you do? Get contacts?"

Isadora turned away. "You're not ready for the truth."

"What? Everyone gets them."

Looking at Lucy again, Isadora said, "My eyes have vision that you can only imagine. Sharper than those of a bird of prey. "

Lucy started backing away. "What has happened to you?"

"Lucy, don't be afraid. I am what most people would call a vampire."

"What?" Lucy started pacing the small space of the kitchen. "This can't be happening."

Lucy heard a gurgling noise. Stopping in front of the refrigerator, she saw that Isadora had opened her mouth and eyes very wide. She inhaled uneasily when she noticed Isadora's canine teeth extending and sharpening within a matter of seconds.

"_No_," Lucy whispered.

Her facial expression returning to normal, Isadora said, "This is the other reason I came here. I wanted to see if you would join me on a journey that will last as long as you want it." As Lucy started shaking her head, Isadora added, "I know you don't believe this, but I can offer you the gift of extended, more vivacious life. Better than you could imagine."

"Get away from me," Lucy said weakly, her eyes starting to water.

"It only hurts for a few seconds, when the fangs pierce your flesh. As the blood gushes out, you don't need to be afraid. I will drink it, and you will feel the most profound ecstasy of your life. You will then drink our comingled blood, then fall into a completely relaxed state. A chrysalis will start to form around your body, and you will change from human to something beyond that. The transformation will take place over the course of a few weeks, and you will break free from the chrysalis with a new world open to you."

Lucy's stomach had begun to tighten. "I think I'm gonna be sick. You just want to kill me."

"No," Isadora said, stepping closer to Lucy. "It's your choice. You can have this new life, or you can live with the paltry span of time you have been given."

Lucy suddenly pulled the silverware drawer out, all the pieces crashing with a metallic sound on the floor. She grabbed a long knife, pointing it at Isadora as she screamed, "_Get the fuck away from me!_"

"That won't work, Lucy. And you don't need it, either."

Both of them heard pounding on the door.

"Who is it?" Lucy asked, trying to sound calm.

"Dana Scully. Federal agent. I need to speak with Lucy DiCielo. We believe her life's in danger."

Isadora started shaking her head.

"She's here to kill me!" Lucy shouted. "Help!"

Scully fired two bullets into the deadbolt.

Isadora hissed, "Your fate is now sealed. Good-bye, Lucy."

Isadora turned around, running towards the door as Scully kicked it in.

"Freeze!" Scully shouted, pointing her pistol at Isadora.

While still running, Isadora picked up Scully by the lapels of her jacket and threw her into the hallway. As Scully slammed into the opposite wall, Isadora turned right, running towards a door at the end of the hallway.

Lucy dashed from the apartment, crouching down to check on Scully. "Are you all right?"

"Fine, despite being thrown into the wall," she replied, sounding somewhat dizzy. Looking in the direction Isadora ran, Scully and Lucy watched the door slam shut.

Getting up slowly, Scully grabbed her pistol. "Lucy, I want you to call the police." She stood to full height and started running down the hallway, still looking back at Lucy. "Tell them what just happened. I'll be on the roof to see if I can figure out which direction she went."

Lucy nodded, running back into the apartment and closing the door.

Opening the door at the top of the stairwell, Scully ran out to the flat rooftop of Hallward Terrace. She had her gun drawn, in case Isadora Kecksburg had decided to go up there as well. Running to the side of the roof directly in front of the door, Scully looked down to see if she could catch a glimpse of Isadora, in case she decided to go down the stairs and escape from the apartment building.

As Scully considered which side of the roof to look over next, she heard the door to the roof slam shut. Turning around, she saw Isadora Kecksburg standing on top of the small structure containing the door. "Looking for someone, Agent Scully?" she asked.

"Hands up in the air, where I can see them!" Scully shouted, aiming her pistol at Isadora.

Complying with Scully's command, Isadora also jumped down to the rooftop. "That's easy," she said, "but jumping down from seven stories up? That's more of a challenge." She started approaching Scully, who stood 50 feet away.

"Stay where you are, or I'll shoot!"

Continuing to walk, Isadora said, "No you won't. I'm unarmed. And even if I were armed, my hands are in the air, and you could shoot me before I had a chance to grab a weapon. Even if you did shoot, it wouldn't hurt me. I'm the undead. Or, at least that's what everyone calls my kind."

"You're taking a big chance. Maybe I have silver bullets."

Isadora stopped about 20 feet away, starting to laugh. "Silver bullets work against werewolves. Not vampires. "

"Lucy is calling the police as we speak. You're trapped up here."

"You don't understand what you're dealing with here, Agent Scully. Vampires aren't always as you imagine them portrayed in the popular media. They distort the truth. We are not partially dead. That's a remnant of tales told many years ago, when superstitious people thought that normal stages of decomposition pointed to vampirism. We are not blood-thirsty automatons looking for fresh victims. I work to overcome my thirst, but it isn't always easy. We are not instantly destroyed by sunlight; just weakened by it, and it shortens our lifespans to a mere millennium. Too late for me I suppose. But, your latent psychic abilities already led you to me."

"I'm not a psychic." Scully protested.

"Then how did you find me?" Looking at Scully's neck, Isadora added, "Oh, and those things don't work at all. At least in my experience"

"What doesn't work?"

"That cross, hanging from your neck."

"I wear it all the time."

"Ah, yes. You and countless others, all wearing the symbols of their respective opiates. Which denomination are you?"

"I was raised Catholic. This cross was a gift from my mother."

Scully felt her attention being drawn to Isadora's eyes. "You might appreciate what I do, then. I release people of their guilt."

"You don't frighten me."

"That's the sweetest thing of all about human blood. Animals have no guile. I feel bad whenever I have to take their lives. Humans with guilt, though? That's what I thrive on. Their blood is their guilt, and I take it away from them."

Scully started to feel disoriented, still trying to hold the gun on Isadora.

"What do you feel guilty about, Agent Scully? I'm sure there's a goldmine with your background."

"Any more thinly-veiled innuendoes about my faith?" Scully asked.

"I see a little girl with two boys. Holding rifles. They're in a garden. There's a snake."

"Where are you getting that from?" Scully asked, her voice sounding less authoritative and teetering on a more emotional tone.

"And the little girl walks up to the snake. It's cold and dead. She starts crying. Could she have done it? Can't blame her. Snakes are supposed represent all that is evil. Right?"

Scully shook her head. "Stop it!"

"Don't worry, Agent Scully. She vowed to herself that she would protect the innocent. That's why she studied medicine and entered the FBI. She's a protector, a nurturer. Just like her companion. She just doesn't let her compassion show easily. A select few have the privilege of seeing that, and that's only when she can't stand to hold her emotions any longer."

Two shots rang out from behind the door, which swung open as if kicked. Isadora turned around quickly to see a man holding a gun at her from the doorframe. "Federal agent!" he shouted. "Don't move."

"How did you get here, Mulder?" Scully shouted.

"The Diazes drove me here. You remember the Diazes, don't you Ms. Kecksburg?"

Isadora started walking towards Mulder.

"I wouldn't do that," Scully warned Isadora.

"Are you going to shoot me if I get any closer to him?" Isadora asked.

"No. But he will."

"You're bluffing, Agent Scully. I'm not even armed."

Mulder fired his gun twice, hitting Isadora beneath the chest. As she shrieked and crumpled to the ground, Mulder and Scully moved in on her. "Only to the teeth," he commented.

Looking up at Mulder, she asked, "How did you know?"

"Just a lucky shot. I figured no one had tried bullets treated with garlic."

"You forgot one thing," she said as Mulder stopped in front of her.

"What's that?" he asked.

Whirling around, she kicked Mulder in the stomach. His gun fell from his hand, and he flew back several feet before landing right near the stariwell.

After he landed, Isadora grabbed Mulder's gun and shouted, "The bullets may sting, but you missed my heart."

Scully fired two shots from her pistol at Isadora. Still holding Mulder's gun, she turned around and started stepping to one side of the roof. "Oh, he shot me, so you need to do so, too?" On Isadora's dress, Scully noticed holes from the bullets they had fired at Isadora.

"Isadora Kecksburg, you're a suspect in the murder of Jeb Bundy."

"Based on what proof, Agent Scully? Besides, what blood did he have on _his_ hands? What did he have on his mind in those last few minutes before he realized that he shouldn't have seen what he saw? I don't think you want to know."

Isadora reached the edge of the roof. "I just want to be left alone, to take advantage of the gift I've been given. Not to be pursued because of what I am. I want to enjoy the long life I will have. Maybe even learn the mysteries of the universe, and maybe even find a way to transcend my desire for blood. I'm certain we'll meet again, Agent Scully. Maybe under different circumstances. But until then, I must take my leave of you and your companion. I have to run from the ones who are also pursuing me." She dropped Mulder's pistol. "Time to live."

Isadora pitched herself over the roof, falling to the sidewalk seven stories below. Scully ran to the spot where Isadora had stood as few seconds earlier, peering over the roof to see her land on the sidewalk. Isadora lifted herself from the ground, looking up at a stunned and speechless Scully before running off into the night.

Turning around, Scully saw Mulder still reclining against the entrance to the roof. Picking up Mulder's pistol, she walked over to him. "Mulder. Are you all right?" Scully asked, handing back his pistol.

"Well, I was kicked several feet through the air by a vampire. Other than that, I'm in good shape."

"Where are the Diazes now?"

"They came up with me, but only after I determined that it was safe. They're in Lucy's apartment right now. A little cramped, but still nicer than my place."

"Is there anything I can get you?"

"Yeah. For some reason, I'm in the mood for lobster and butter sauce. Extra garlic."


	5. Hiding the Moon

**Middleton Police Station  
June 10th  
12:10 P.M.**

Clem Krause clanked an empty Pepsi can on his desk. "So, that's it," he said to Mulder and Scully, sitting in chairs directly across from him. "I give you an extra 24 hours to work on this, at the request of your A.D., and you go off on some wild goose chase over in Columbus to chase down someone who ended up getting away."

"Chief Krause," Scully started, "Mary DiCielo's daughter was visited by someone whom she claimed was Isadora Kecksburg. She believed her life was in danger from this person, too."

"I swear, it's like the domino theory," Krause said. "Carl Bowman gets to Mulder, and then Mulder gets to you. There were two reasons I agreed to Skinner's compromise. Because he seemed an honorable man, and because I thought that you, Agent Scully, would bring some level of sanity to this investigation. I can only hope that the man they're sending in will solve this case without resorting to supernatural silliness."

A policeman knocked on the doorframe to Krause's office. "Chief Krause. The new agent is here."

"Thanks. Bring him in," Krause called back, prompting the officer to return to the main area of the police station. He got up and walked to the door. "I would like to thank you for nothing," Krause said, leaning against the doorframe. "Sorry to be so harsh, but this did not turn out as I had hoped."

"Same here," Mulder mumbled.

As the new agent walked into the office, Mulder and Scully felt a mutual shock. Shaking hands with Krause, he introduced himself. "Alex Krycek."

Mulder stood up from his chair. "Well, if it isn't the cunning little rat."

Krycek smiled. "Nice to see you too, Fox," he said, extending his hand to Mulder. Mulder refused the greeting, prompting Krycek to turn to Scully. "Long time, no see, Agent Scully."

Scully turned away.

"Did I miss something here?" Krause asked.

"Let's just say we have a history," Krycek replied. "I've had to clean up after Agent Mulder and his so-called theories."

"You know they're true," Mulder yelled, pointing at Krycek. "What are you here to cover up this time? How'd they let you back in the FBI?"

"Mulder. Your shouting won't do any good," Scully said, getting up from her chair as well.

"Why did Skinner send you?" Mulder asked Krycek.

"He knew he had to," Krycek replied.

"I'm sure," Scully commented.

"You have something for us that might be crucial to the case?" Krycek asked disingenuously.

Mulder reached into his suit jacket and pulled out the diary. "A little light reading."

Krycek examined the cover. "I look forward to reading this. The diary of a sixteen year old girl."

"Don't get too excited, Krycek," Scully said.

"We only got so far," Mulder added. "I hope you find it enlightening."

"Oh, don't worry. I'll treat this with the respect it deserves," Krycek said.

Krause chuckled. Turning to Krycek, he asked, "Do you want their account, or do you want a fresh start on the case?"

"I understand they followed improper procedure, which won't help me. At least they will have to give a full account to Skinner within a few days."

"Excellent," Krause said. Turning to Mulder and Scully, Krause said, "That will be all, Agent Mulder. Agent Scully."

"You don't know what you're getting into, Chief Krause," Mulder commented, walking through the doorway with Scully.

"Can't be any worse than a few days ago, when I thought I was getting the best people," Krause called out.

As Mulder and Scully disappeared from sight, Krycek smiled at Krause. "Don't worry. We'll make sure everything is done properly this time."


	6. The Mystery of Love

**Scully's Apartment  
Georgetown  
June 11th  
6:20 P.M.**

Peering over Scully's shoulder as she finished the report, Mulder said, "Fine reading. Hope Skinner likes it, too."

Scully closed her laptop and got up from her desk. "I guess our versions of the story share enough similarities, then."

"Now that we're done, do you wanna do something? Maybe order pizza, watch a video?"

"Mulder, we've spent the past several days in each others' company. I'd kind of like a break."

"So, now that you've gotten my feedback, you're throwing me out?"

"No. It's just that we've spent all this time on the case. Now I'm ready for some relaxation."

"That's what I had in mind, too. It'd be like college, but without worrying about finals and papers."

"Well, we had that report to write for Skinner."

"Yeah, and we're done with it. It's almost 6:30, anyway. I don't want to have pizza right before bed."

Scully walked to the refrigerator, finding a magnet with contact information for a nearby pizza parlor. "There's a pizza place not too far from here called Valzacchi's. They serve good deep-dish Sicilian. Usually lasts me a few days, and it's not too expensive."

"Gotta watch the money, especially considering our line of work. Peering into the unknown, delving into the mysteries of the universe. Not terribly lucrative, especially if you're working for the government." Mulder paused. "Oh, and I just want mushrooms."

Picking up the cordless phone in the kitchen, Scully asked, "So, what about a video? We'll have to go out for that."

"Don't worry. I brought one already."

Turning away from the refrigerator, Scully saw Mulder holding up the case containing the _Salome_ videotape. "Don't _worry_?" she asked incredulously. "That's evidence, Mulder."

"Krycek didn't know about it. Besides, I only mentioned the diary to Skinner."

Scully rolled her eyes. "All right. Pizza and opera it is."

Regarding the videotape, Mulder commented, "Y'know, I just realized that _Traviata_ or _Tosca_ would have been more appropriate."

As she dialed Valzacchi's, Scully asked, "Would you rather we have sauerkraut and sausage?"

"I think sauerkraut would beat anchovies as worst pizza topping ever."

**7:05 P.M.**

After setting the pizza on her coffee table, Scully walked to the kitchen. "I'll get plates and napkins."

"We're not eating at the dining room table?" Mulder asked.

Opening a kitchen cabinet, Scully replied, "We're having pizza, not something fancy."

"But there's no chairs around the coffee table."

"We can just sit on the couch." Scully grabbed two plates and set them on the countertop to open the silverware drawer.

Regarding the couch, Mulder asked, "Are you sure?"

Setting two knives and forks on the top plate, Scully carried them to the coffee table. "What? Are you afraid I'll bite?"

Mulder settled on the sofa. "After the Kecksburg case, I'm not taking any chances."

**7:30 P.M.**

The final slice of a mushroom pizza lay in the large cardboard box. "You want that slice?" Mulder asked. "I've already had half the pizza."

"You can have it," Scully said.

Mulder stared at the slice for a moment. "Nah. I want to help you save money." He got up from the couch, stretched, and grabbed the videotape. "Now that we're done, should I pop it in?"

"I guess that's what you're here for," Scully said.

Mulder slid the tape into the VCR. As the machine made some clunking noises, Mulder hit the play button and sat back on the sofa. After Scully placed the remaining slice of pizza in a Tupperware container and set the large cardboard box on the countertop, she went back to the living room and sat next to Mulder on the sofa.

"You might want to be careful," Mulder said. "If I remember Dr. Ganz's class right, this opera has some pretty suggestive stuff in it."

Scully turned to Mulder. "Unless the videotape has some kind of magic power, I don't think I need worry. Besides, I've worked with you for a few years, and I know that you'll act appropriately around me."

Mulder smiled, "Don't worry. I'll try not to belch."

Scully smiled back at him.

Mulder pointed to the television. "Looks like it's starting."

Credits began to appear on the screen, including the title of the opera, the names of principal singers and their characters, and the conductor. "For being part of an opera, the credits are pretty quiet," Scully observed.

"I think it may have been directed by Woody Allen."

When the credits ended, the stage appeared with snow-white structures representing the palace of Herod, the ruler of Judea who assumed power by having his brother murdered and marrying his widow Herodias. A black backdrop stood in for sky, and an oversized moon floated above the set as witness to the strange and violent events that would ensue over the following hour and three-quarters.

"It's just a weather balloon," Mulder mumbled.

Scully shushed him.

"What? That's the official story."

A clarinet slunk up the scale to a brief and jaunty opening theme establishing the opera's nocturnal atmosphere. _Wie schoen ist die Prinzessin Salome_, sang Narraboth, the palace guard captain besotted with the opera's title character. He finished the opening line with _heute nacht_, the orchestra hinting at the undercurrent of malevolence that would ultimately define the evening. The palace page accompanying Narraboth responded with her observation of the moon, which she thought resembled a woman rising from the grave. Strings and woodwinds hesitated and darted throughout their initial conversation on Salome and the moon, suddenly interrupted by the distant sounds of a loud dispute among the theological scholars in Herod's palace. Two palace guards attributed the "howling" to _Juden_, accompanied by squeaking woodwinds.

Noticing Scully's scrunched face, Mulder commented sardonically, "Remember, we're getting cultured. Not made PC."

"I just hope the whole opera isn't like that."

**8:35 P.M.**

_Salome_ had progressed as Scully had hoped, though the quintet of the "stage Jews" provided a rude intrusion on the opera's dramatic proceedings. Otherwise, she and Mulder sat entranced by the performances of both singers and orchestra. The "dialogue" where Salome expresses her mounting desire for the prophet Jochanaan proved especially enrapturing, progressing from her _douce_ desire for his body (_Ich bin verliebt in deinen Leib, Jochanaan_.) to thrusting horns, pounding timpani, and sighing strings that proclaimed her passionate desire for his mouth (_Deinen mund begehere ich, Jochanaan!_). Even after Jochanaan rebuffed her advances and returned to his palace prison, _Ich will deinen mund kussen_ remained on Salome's mind... even stronger than before.

An hour into the opera, Mulder sat spellbound by the wordless Dance of the Seven Veils. For her stepfather Herod, Salome revealed and concealed her bare flesh with a translucent gauzy material that fired (and left little to) Mulder's imagination. Scully found Salome's cavorting and the reactions among the various palace guests quite amusing, along with Mulder's slackjawed expression. Herod mugged and contorted his face with excited expressions of approval, especially upon receiving a veil that he initially fumbled before sniffing it. Salome's mother Herodias stood aside to fan herself with feigned disinterest.

Scully and Mulder laughed out loud when a palace guard got on all fours, allowing Salome to mount and ride him like a horse. Signaled by a disapproving wave of Herod's hand, Salome got up and kicked the soldier to the ground before proceeding to finish her spectacle. After dancing herself into a frenzy, Salome fell to her knees, quivering with abandon as Herod's guests surrounded her. As the dance came to its abrupt end, Salome ripped off the veils, leaving absolutely nothing to the viewer's imagination.

_Ah! Herrlich!_ Herod sang as a naked and catatonic Salome pitched forward towards the camera. _Wundervoll, wundervoll!_

Scully sighed. "And I thought opera was supposed to be refined."

"You say something, Scully?" Mulder mumbled.

Scully grabbed a sofa pillow and threw it at him. "You didn't tell me there was nudity in this."

"Yeaaaah." Mulder paused. "But neither of us had seen it yet. You offended?"

"No. Not offended, at least not by that. Just... surprised."

"Be surprised no more," Mulder said, pointing to the television. "She just put on a robe."

To fulfill his promise to give Salome anything she wanted in exchange for dancing, Herod asked his stepdaughter, _Was willst du haben? Sprich!_

_Ich möchte, daß sie mir gleich in einer Silberschüssel..._

On a silver platter! How charming Herod found it that his stepdaughter would want something on a silver platter... at least she until sweetly and innocently gave her answer.

_Den Kopf des Jochanaan._

_Nein, nein!_ Herod shouted.

_Ah! Das sagst du gut, meine Tochter! _Herodias screeched, approving immediately of her daughter's deed: asking for Jochanaan's severed head on a silver platter.

Herod assumed that Salome had followed the wishes of her mother, until she told him otherwise. _Ich achte nicht auf die Stimme meiner Mutter. Zu meiner eignen Lust will ich den Kopf des Jokanaan... in einer Silberschüssel haben._ His fears of divine retribution getting the better of him, Herod tried reneging on his promise. He offered her various gifts. Valuable jewels! Rare and exotic animals! The mantle of the high priest!

"Half of what he's got for untying the knot," Mulder commented.

All to no avail.

_GEB MIR DEN KOPF... DES JOCHANAAN! _Timpani thundered and brass blasted a dissonant theme as Salome inched menacingly on her knees towards Herod, her piercing eyes and upturned mouth aimed directly at him.

In exasperation, Herod gasped, _Man soll ihr geben, was sie verlangt!  
_  
Collapsing to the floor, moaning in ecstasy, Salome grasped her chest and threw her head back.

_Sie ist in Wahrheit ihrer Mutter Kind!_ Herod added. Like a raptor house gone mad, the orchestra accompanied Herodias as she removed the executioner's ring from Herod's finger. _Wer hat meinen Ring genommen?_ he wondered, noticing that it had gone, and realizing that something horrible would happen.

With great anticipation, Salome listened for a sign that her reward would arrive to her. Pinched double-basses, sounding like the "suppressed moaning of a woman," accompanied her impatient desire for Jochanaan's head. As Salome's patience fell apart, the orchestra went bersek again, before the thunderimg of timpani heralded the arrival of Jochanaan's severed head.

_Ah! Du wolltest mich nicht deinen Mund kussen lassen..._ The final scene had begun, Salome singing with vindictive satisfaction about her imminent seizure of the prophet's head. The entire orchestra made the title character sound like a creature from a horror movie. Like some kind of primordial beast emerging from years of slumber, ready to wreak havoc upon the world. She and the orchestra settled somewhat, only to build up again to a mood of profound desire, before returning to vindictiveness.

_Ich lebe noch, aber du bist tot. Und dein kopf, dein kopf gehoert mir!_

Grabbing Jochanaan's _kopf_ by the hair, Salome swirled it in the air before holding it to her breast, trying a little tenderness. _Du warst schön!_ she sang softly.

_You were beautiful!_

The translation that appeared at the bottom of the TV screen made Mulder remember one of the first cases he and Scully investigated together. The Jersey Devil case. More specifically, when the "devil" had him pinned to the ground. When Scully found Mulder, his mind was elsewhere. Away from the injuries, away from the imminent threat to his very existence.

"You should have seen her," he said to a concerned Scully. "She was beautiful."

With the return of gentleness abandoned earlier in the opera, Salome praised Jochanaan's beauty. Shimmering strings and a quivering celesta aided her visions. Of Jochanaan's body as a column of ivory. As a garden full of doves, full of silver lillies...

_Nichts in der Welt war so Weiss wie Dein Leib_

_Nichts on der Welt war so Schwarz wie Dein Haar_

_In der ganzen Welt war nichts so rot wie dein Mund…_

The whole orchestra accompanied Salome's ecstatic revery, violins sweetly singing the same melody as her little _Lied_ to Jochanaan's physical beauty. The infamous double-basses also made their presence known, counterbalancing the violins' ethereal lightness by underscoring the more earthy aspects of Salome's desire for Jochanaan.

The orchestra quieted down, but Salome's passion continued to smolder as she remembered the mysterious beauty of Jochanaan's voice. A voice stilled by the inflexibility of their worldviews. He the mystic, she the more earthbound. He maintaining chastity for his cause, she pursuing all that he has to give her.

Even as she has already sealed her fate.

She returned only momentarily to her vindictiveness before launching into an erotically-charged hymn to the insatiable nature of her desire. The orchestra undulated, rocking and rolling to a climax as Salome rhapsodized on how neither wine nor apples, nor rivers, _noch die grossen Wasser_ (perhaps all oceans of the world), could appease her passion.

The ritualistic pummeling of the timpani and groaning of low-pitched instruments seemed to end Salome's hymn, but she continued. _If you had seen me, you would have loved me._ Beginning softly, a crescendoing timpani roll dredged up Salome's heretofore untapped grief for what could have been so beautiful. Violins and brass intertwined, heaving great tears on behalf of the opera's anti-heroine, who had come to the realization that she would never know Jochanaan in any of the ways she might have truly desired.

Mulder and Scully sat agape at the spectacle, as Salome got on her knees and stretched her arms to wrap them around the absent object of her desire.

Placing a hand over her face, Scully rubbed the temples of her eyes, the palm of her hand covering her mouth and nose. She did not want to let go of the burning sensation, the heavy wetness, that threatened to overtake her eyes. After all, how could she feel sympathy… perhaps even empathy… for a character like Salome?

"You all right, Scully?"

"I'm fine."

The orchestra settled into a lower key, and Salome softly sang, _Und das Geheimnis der Liebe_, the mystery of love, _ist grosser als das Geheimnis des Todes._

She started to kiss his mouth.


	7. Epilogue

**Wiener Staatsoper  
10 September 2023**

_Manassah! Issachar! Ozias!_

A panicked Herod darted throughout the terrace of his palace, ordering his minions to extinguish the torches. To hide the moon and stars. To keep hidden from the eyes of God a horrible spectacle: His stepdaughter kissing the severed head of the prophet.

Salome lay on the ground, languidly caressing the hair of her trophy. Woodwinds trilled, strings and horns groaned, and the unearthly rumble of an offstage organ accompanied Salome as she dissolutely sang of her deed.

_Ah! Ich habe deinen Muuuund gekuesst..._

Violins pierced the air, emitting a haunting moan in G-sharp and A, resolving again on G-sharp. It repeated again as Salome addressed the head

_Jo-haaaaaaaa-na hannnnnn…_

_Ah. Ich habe ihn gekuesst…_

The brief moaning motif appeared

…_deinen mund…_

She tasted something bitter on his lips. Blood?

_Es war einbitterer Gescmack…_

Or perhaps it was the taste of love.

A briefly brilliant theme blossomed in the violins, illuminating at least aurally the dim scene. _Molto espresso!_

Dissolution returned for a few moments, before Salome began hurtling towards her apotheosis.

_Al-lein was tuts?_

She echoed the first four notes from the brilliant theme a few moments before, which returned to echo both her and itself. The timpani did the same…

_What matters it? _she asked again.

Timpani rolled in a thunderous crescendo, weightless violins echoed Salome's metaphysical inquiry, and brass thrusted into The Infinite.

The entire orchestra came together for an earth-shattering climax, which almost blasted the roof right off the performance hall, opening up the entire universe.

_Nichts in der Welt…!_

Salome screamed…

_Ich habe deinen Mund… _

Brass throbbed plaintively, flutes fluttered, violins lept the scale in unfettered ecstasy, and the glockenspiel tingled. A lone trumpet blasted five notes that ascended the scale in rapid succession, followed by a sixth note that brought the wayward instrument back in line with the rest of the orchestra.

… _gekusst, Jochanaan!_

Salome repeated her proclamation of her deed a final time, the entire orchestra reached towards its final paroxism.

In a departure from traditional stagings, Jochanaan reappeared on the stage, bathed in blue light. Although initially startled, Salome walked slowly towards him, taking his outstretched arm. All the lights dimmed when her hand touched his, and as the orchestra's portrayal of her reverie came to an end.

To bring the opera to its abrupt conclusion, Herod shouted _Man tote dieses Weib!_

His execution order mocked the final notes sung by Salome. All the lights shined on the palace soldiers rushing to kill Salome. Instead, they were startled to find that she had already vanished with Jochanaan.

After Strauss' orchestral "signature" concluded the opera, the entire audience rose to its feet, shouting and clapping. A few obligatory, yet sincere, bravos emerged from the audience.

Over the din of the crowd, a blond woman in her early twenties turned to the young auburn-haired man standing next to her. "I told you this would be good, Willi."

"What?" he shouted, barely hearing her.

"I said you would like it. Sex. Violence. Religion. Everything you Americans like."

Shaking his head, the man shouted back, "I think it's hard wired in all of us, Hildegard. Regardless of tribe."

The performers started returning to the stage.

When he applied to study for a semester abroad in Vienna, William Van De Kamp never thought he would get accepted into the program. He also never imagined himself going to the Wiener Staatsoper itself, attending a performance of an opera he ended up enjoying (even though it took some friendly cajoling by Hildegard, whom he met upon arriving in Vienna the previous month), and being present for an historic event; the first performance with a woman holding the baton.

An American woman at that.

Emerging from stage left, conductor Isobella Rosenthal walked to the center of the stage, joining the cast to bask in the audience's adulation. Growing even louder, the crowd found renewed strength to participate in the celebration of Rosenthal's triumph. After bowing a few times, she indicated the other performers with a sweep of her arms.

Looking out into the audience again, Rosenthal felt her attention drawn to the inexpensive seats. To some college kid who seemed familiar, even though she had never met him in her life. She looked intensely in his direction for a few seconds, the sounds from the audience inexplicably dampened by vague memories of the two FBI agents who almost snuffed out her existence nearly 30 years earlier.

Bringing herself back to the present, she pushed from her mind that memory.

From the time she called herself Aimee Archer.

_Fin_


End file.
